


30 Prompts - Geddoe

by CapsuleCorp



Category: Suikoden III
Genre: Action, Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:37:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapsuleCorp/pseuds/CapsuleCorp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back when I used to roleplay Geddoe on livejournal, I attempted a 100 prompts challenge in order to figure out his personality and past. I got about 30-40 of them finished as small, 1-3 page fics. Here are a handful of them, some action, some simply vignettes of the mercenary captain's life. Some venture into headcanon about his distant past, the Fire Bringer, etc. Most prompts finished between 2007-2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

01\. – Beginnings

Sneaking into a Harmonian temple should not have been so easy for a measly band of thieves. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been if this temple was in Crystal Valley, or any other major settlement, but even so, given the treasure stored inside, there was a more than adequate guard posted, to say nothing of clerics going about their business. The four bandits bided their time until well after midnight, going over the plan again and verifying their recon information on the changing of the guard. One stood guard while the rest caught some sleep, his black-clad figure melding in with the shadows of the trees. Geddoe didn’t know the other three terribly well, he had hired them specifically for this job, but the other swordsman in the party seemed inclined to continue running with him even after they were paid. He had promised them all ridiculous sums of potch, but once they understood what they were stealing, they knew his boast wasn’t idle. He had his own reasons for attempting to steal the rune orb from this temple, and potch was not one of them. A fighter with a Skunk rune, an archer, and a Wind mage rounded out his team, designed for stealth. Their plan involved getting in and out with the orb hopefully before an alarm could be raised, but Geddoe was confident that he could fight his way out if need be. Finally, in the wee hours of the morning between midnight and dawn, he roused the others and prepared them for the attack.

Fast, well-timed arrows took out the first guards at the entrance. The archer remained there to pick off anyone who came to back them up, should an alarm be raised, while the two swordsmen and the mage slipped inside. Any civilians or priests were put to sleep with a Wind spell, while Harmonian soldiers had to die quickly and quietly. The other swordsman was able to get in close before being detected, while Geddoe strode confidently in as the main distraction. Thus, they were able to get all the way inside to the protected chamber without raising an alarm. The others guarded their retreat while Geddoe went to the ornate pedestal in the center of the chamber. The crystal housed inside the intricate display was larger than ordinary rune orbs, a mark of authenticity in itself if one could not discern the design and energy of the True Rune inside. Geddoe could almost feel the electricity as he reached out and closed his gloves on the orb, plucking it up and tucking it under one arm. That was the signal to move, so the other swordsman leaped into the corridor first, followed by the mage, then their leader. It was way too easy, a thought that crossed Geddoe’s mind fleetingly just before hearing the clanking of Harmonian armor coming at a dash up the adjoining passage. The others paused to meet the unexpected pursuit, but Geddoe only yelled, “Run!” and started off at a lope. All three of them hurried back toward the entrance, but the soldiers were coming up fast, they’d be on them in minutes. The mage stopped and prepared to cast a spell, but Geddoe grabbed at his collar and dragged him along. “There’s no time!” he snarled.

“But they’re gonna catch us!” the smaller man cried, twisting to get his footing and keep up. “Geddoe, we have to stop them somehow!”

“You’re not fast enough to get off that kind of spell,” Geddoe barked, giving him a shove so he was in front of the taller, stronger men. “Just run! Don’t even look back, run for your damn life! That goes for you too,” he added for the other swordsman at his arm.

“I did _not_ sign up for this!” the man yelped in panic. “You said it would be easy! Where did these soldiers come from?”

Geddoe had no answer for that. Indeed, the information he had been given by the stranger who had already promised astronomical sums of potch for the rune crystal in his hands claimed that the only soldiers at the temple were the guards. There should not have been a separate cadre, nor should they have gotten wind of a break-in so fast. Something was undoubtedly not right, but there wasn’t even time to question and investigate and find out what went wrong. They had to get out, first, and get clear.

Arrows whistled past their heads from the opposite direction; their archer had come up as far as the entrance and was shooting back into the pack of soldiers. It wasn’t much help – they could hear the arrows ping off the metal plate armor of their foes. The mage began to lag despite Geddoe’s attempt to grab him and haul him along, and then he wrenched his arm free. “Go!” he demanded. “I’ll try to hold them off.” He raised his hands toward the pursuit, already casting a Wind of Sleep even if it wouldn’t contain every soldier.

The other swordsman punched Geddoe’s arm to keep him from stopping and going back. “Get the orb out of here,” he panted. “This whole expedition will be for nothing if you don’t get it away, and his sacrifice will be worthless if they get it back from us!”

The Harmonian axe-men were slower, but there were a lot of them, and a few Sleep spells and an archer weren’t going to stop all of them. Gritting his teeth, Geddoe put his head down and ran, flying down the steps and breaking for the trees. He heard the archer’s bow twang, and then her scream as she was overtaken. The other swordsman vanished. All he had left was himself, and the power of his own sense of survival. Wrapping both arms around the orb crystal, he held it to his chest and barreled for the woods, blinking his eyes to try to readjust to the darkness. Geddoe didn’t even care where he was going, he just had to outpace the pursuit. At least they made plenty of noise thrashing into the underbrush behind him, but they were persistent bastards and remained just close enough behind him that he couldn’t stop even to catch his breath. His side ached with a stitch, his boots kept catching and crunching on branches and low-growing vines, but he ran on without hesitation. His comrade was right – everything they did would turn out to be wasted effort if he couldn’t get the orb to safety. Forget the waiting buyer, he just had to get away. Something in his path sent him sprawling, then, rolling hard through the brush and coming to a stop face-down with the Rune orb beneath him. Geddoe groaned a little, feeling fresh pains in his ankle, knees, and shoulders, adding to the exhaustion and the ache of his run coming to such an abrupt end. But the Harmonians were still coming, his mind remained in flight mode, and he pushed himself up to try and gain his feet and resume fleeing. The dark woods around him seemed brighter, and an instant later he realized the orb was glowing. He tried wrapping both hands around it, hoping his thick gloves would stifle the light. “Don’t!” he hissed out loud. “Do you want them to find us? Stop it!” 

It was completely involuntary, speaking to the Rune as if it were sentient, but to Geddoe’s astonishment, he heard a response. Or, rather, felt, since it didn’t seem to be making a noise for his ears to hear. _What do you ask of me?_

Geddoe curled his body to hide the greenish glow from sight. “Stop with the light, the Harmonians are going to see it and find us!”

_Do you wish to be free?_

“Of course I wish to be free!” he breathed harshly. “I don’t want to be caught by Harmonia!”

_That is what I also wish_ , the eerie voice told him. The Rune orb began to glow even more brightly. Geddoe nearly dropped it, but he only held it away from himself, clutched in both hands, staring at it in astonishment. The shape of the True Lightning Rune inside grew more distinct, as if the orb were evaporating before his eyes and releasing the Rune itself to hover between his fingers. _You are compatible. You will do._

“Wha…?” That was all Geddoe got out before he felt the tension of a strange energy wreath around him and the brightest light swelled between his hands. He flinched, but it only came to rest on his right hand. There was suddenly a rush of voices and images in his head, making him catch his breath and stare blindly into nothingness as the long-imprisoned Rune insinuated itself into his soul and melded with him just enough to show him what it wanted: freedom. It wanted to roam the world unchained, and though there were glimpses of strange faces from the distant past who had done so, the Rune no longer knew their names, nor cared. It was merely taking advantage of the situation, choosing a new host. Geddoe staggered to his feet, his right hand spasming a little from the energy now contained inside it. He almost didn’t hear the soldiers crashing up through the brush toward the beacon of green-tinged light, but the Rune was one step ahead of him. He didn’t even have to think, nor recite the spell, and his hand swiveled toward the noise of pursuit on its own. An immensely powerful bolt of lightning forked out into the trees, and multiple cries of pain revealed every single target of the Soaring Bolt in the darkness.

Panting and dripping with sweat, Geddoe lurched sideways and began a halting amble back into the woods, continuing on his escape course even though there was no more sound of pursuit. The True Rune’s spell had knocked out every single one of the Harmonian soldiers who had made it to his position. It was easier to run now that he wasn’t carrying anything, but the lingering effect of the Rune coming to rest upon him and then using a spell left him dizzy and shaken. He could only run so much further before stumbling and reeling into a tree. He knelt there to catch his breath and listen, but it sounded like he was now alone in the forest. Alone, and carrying a True Rune in his body. There was no point in going to the buyer anymore…but the small bit of rationality still speaking louder than the Rune’s voice gave him a plan. The thieves had agreed upon a meeting place in the next town over, in case they were separated somehow. A fallback location. They were to make their way there, and if no one else joined up in three days, they were to simply vanish and not look back. It was far from the best idea with the countryside probably now teeming with Harmonians searching for the stolen Rune orb, but it was the only plan Geddoe could follow. He picked himself up and began trudging through the trees, eyes half-closed, drowsily looking for any glimpse of stars through the boughs by which to get his bearing.

  


05\. – Outsides

The little camp was nothing short of perfect. Near a river but high enough above it to stay dry, at the eaves of the forest, with a natural ring of rocks providing some semblance of protection and stability, to say nothing of places to sit and to drape clothes while they dried in the sun. The forest was thick with undergrowth, meaning plenty of firewood, berries and nuts, and mushrooms, readily available game, maybe even medicinal herbs. It was hard to attack, easy to defend, and would still be in shadow until a few hours after dawn. Yet, no matter how ideal the site was, it didn’t stop the 12th unit from grumbling. “Why can’t we stay in town?” Ace groused as he dropped an armload of firewood on the ground. “I’ve been dying for a real bed! There’s a perfectly good inn, you know.”

“With a perfectly good tavern,” Joker noted, not even glancing up from where he was winding strips of leather around a set of long poles.

“That’s exactly why we’re not staying in town,” Geddoe declared as he moved among them, using his toe to sweep small rocks and twigs out of the flat spots where they could set up their bedrolls. “I don’t want the lot of you wasting all our potch and getting so drunk you can’t get your asses up in the morning to take care of this job.”

“But we haven’t had a hot meal and a good night’s sleep under a roof in weeks,” Queen reminded him, though she usually backed him up in these situations. “And I’m itching for a bath – literally.” She shot the two men nearest her a dirty look. “I think you guys have fleas.”

Ace gaped at her. “I do _not!_ ”

“Get used to it,” Geddoe said gruffly, going to a recently-acquired pack and starting to unfold the canvas inside. “This job is going to take us a while. We’re going to have to camp out here until it’s finished.” He shot the team a glaring look over his shoulder before any of them could protest. “This is one of those cases where civilians absolutely cannot see us lurking around, and we’ll have to hit more than one town. This is the best location to put a base camp.”

Ace scratched idly at the back of his neck. “Ahh, I know, Captain, it all makes sense,” he sighed, “I just wish we didn’t have to do it that way. I hate these extended missions when we have to camp instead of take over an inn. My old bones are going to get real sick of sleeping on the ground.”

“ _Your_ old bones?” Joker snorted magnificently and heaved himself up off the ground with his finished project. “What about the rest of us? I have half a mind to take your old bones and shove ‘em up your…”

“Guys!” Queen interrupted, hands on hips. “It’s not like the captain is that much younger than you two, and you don’t hear him complaining about sleeping on the ground. Sheesh!”

The other two looked at her, and then at Geddoe patiently going about his work, and quieted down. “Yeah, well…I guess it’s good we got ourselves a tent this time,” Joker admitted, propping up the set of poles he had been lashing together. “If we’re gonna be here for the long haul, we’d better at least keep the rain off our heads.”

It took all four of them, but they got the old canvas army tent set up in the spot where Geddoe had cleared away loose stones, and by the time Ace was triumphantly tying back the door, the final member of the unit melted almost silently out of the trees with a string of dead rabbits in tow. “Hey, look, dinner’s here,” Ace teased. “Who gets to clean it?”

Jacques raised the bounty of his hunt to offer it to whoever wanted to help. “I got some mushrooms, too,” he murmured quietly.

“I’ll do it.” Geddoe stepped in and absconded with the meat, seeing as Queen was already turning up her nose at the mere idea. “Someone get the fire going, get us some water for cooking and washing, and set the rest of the equipment up.”

The others scattered to handle the tasks, but Ace took advantage of the captain’s distance from the camp to gossip with Joker. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he’s having a good time,” he muttered under his breath. “I think he actually _likes_ camping out.”

“I think you’re right,” Joker responded, craning his neck to see where Geddoe had gone. He wisely chose to take care of the messy business well outside the camp, to minimize the threat of wild animals coming to investigate the scent of blood. All they could see of him was his dark-colored back turned to them, and the back of his shaggy head. “It’s not like he ever cracks a smile but there’s just a little bit of a spring to his step today. It’s like he’s pleased we have to camp out here instead of stay in a town.”

“You think he’d kill me if I brought back a couple of bottles on our next venture through civilization?” Ace wondered.

A boot swiftly connected with his ass, nearly sending him tumbling forward into the stream. “Stop making things harder for the rest of us!” Queen complained, ignoring Ace’s fumbling for the waterskins before they floated away. “And cut Geddoe some slack. If he thought it was all right to get wasted by the campfire he’d have bought a few bottles himself.”

Ace sneered up at her. “Hoping to get into the captain’s secret stash, eh Queen?”

She smacked him hard across the back of the head this time. “Loser!”

Meanwhile, Jacques had finished stowing equipment in the tent and prowled up nearly invisibly behind Geddoe, carefully approaching on his left side in order to let himself be seen. Geddoe heard him first, and gave him a placid look over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Jacques shyly replied. “Do you need any help?”

“Nope. Almost finished,” Geddoe said with the slightest touch of satisfaction. “Good job, Jacques. We’ll eat good tonight.”

The younger man looked away, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. After a long silence, he quietly offered, “I’m glad we’re camping.”

Geddoe began to smile to himself as he finished up and wiped his knife blade on the grass. “Me too. I like the quiet.”

Another long silence met him in response, until after he had collected everything and stood up to face Jacques. The sharpshooter finally looked straight at him, murmuring, “I don’t think it’ll be very quiet with Ace and Joker around.”

The captain grinned and even chuckled a little. “I guess we’ll have to do our best, then.” He gave Jacques a little slap on the arm as he passed him and returned to the camp to begin the cooking. Jacques trailed after him like a blue shadow, his own features lightened by that little exchange.

  


11\. – Red

Geddoe stood panting over the crumpled, mangled bodies of his foes, splatters of blood across his leather armor and the side of his face. Great ruby drops ran along the edge of his blade and plopped dully on the dusty ground at his feet, crimson-bright and shimmering in the reflected light from his cold steel. Even now, he had no regrets over his actions – he couldn’t, not when his own life was at stake. Kill or be killed, it was a universal principle even outside war. Inside it, it was a demand. The three Harmonian axemen lay where they had fallen, crimson stains blossoming across their blue-and-silver uniforms. Their own axe-blades were red with the blood of the Grasslanders they had mowed through to get to the Fire Bringer captain, red just like their own blood now spilled on the ground. But there was no time for thoughts of the senselessness of war to even enter Geddoe’s head, for there were a lot more Harmonians ahead of him…a lot more of them than of him. He took only a second to flick his sword quickly to the side, to clean the blade of blood, and pressed onward. It would only be reddened again in a few moments, but the less to dry and cake on the blade and blunt its force, the easier time he would have cutting his way through the ranks of soldiers.

Never had Geddoe seen a battle quite like this. The Harmonian Main Army had massed and forged ahead into the grassland plains, as if declaring with their numbers that it was now or never – the Flame Champion either had to show himself and do his best to defend his people, or watch as the true might of Holy Harmonia swarmed like so many blue locusts across their land and claimed it all with their trampling feet and swinging axes. The united Grassland front had met them just before high noon, and here it was, close to sunset, and the fighting was still going on. To make matters worse, the three main branches of their army, led by a True Rune each, had been cut off from each other, and only now, with judicious use of magic, were the infantry arms beginning to converge. The evening sky was as red as the blood of the dead with the oncoming sunset, casting rosy reflections in the helms of the Harmonians and glinting off the weapons sailing through the air left and right. A flight of arrows soared over Geddoe’s head as he marched on into the fray, the whistling of their feathers catching his attention for the briefest second. Even their tiny points flashed red in the sunset, like the star that made up the heart of the constellation of the Mantik which soon would be rising over them if they didn’t cease battle before nightfall. At the rate the Harmonians were going, they had no intention of stopping just because it got dark. Slashing his way through another pair of onrushing foes, Geddoe turned to see how his troops were faring. They were coming up behind him, a bit slowly, but they were finally making progress. Their leader was somewhere near the center of the battlefield, Wyatt had to be at the head of that pack off to the left, coming down from the hill. Yes, Geddoe had the blessed opportunity to pinpoint his friend’s location by the sudden flash of blue that changed the color of the reflections in the Harmonian helms swarming towards the dark-clad line of Grasslanders. That line seemed to swell and surge forward in response, perhaps refreshed by a simple-level spell that temporarily healed them all of their minor hurts and exhaustion. Heartened to see that Wyatt was doing well, Geddoe roused his infantry with a shout and waved them forward, completely ignoring the splash of red across his cheek. It wasn’t his blood, after all.

A red light gleamed from the depth of the valley, and for a moment Geddoe thought the sunset had deepened and was reflecting off of the mass of Harmonians teeming in the bowl formed by a ring of hills. There was far more blue than gold and green in that valley, indicating that the Flame Champion’s main line was being overwhelmed, part of the reason the other two Fire Bringer captains were doing their best to cut their way straight inside from either flank. They intended to meet up with the third, there, so the three True Runes combined could devastate the invading army. But after a moment Geddoe realized that the reddish glow was no mere reflection – it was True Fire. He had to quick duck and cut down a cavalry soldier who had come up on his blind side, and whirled in place, blood running in crimson rivulets down the blade of his sword. The red glow was only growing stronger, expanding, illuminating the crowds of living beings in scarlet hues, turning the silver armor red, the ground red, everything…. Geddoe stared, frozen by the sight. The figures were no longer advancing toward that center point, they were…expanding outward. Fleeing. Hands with swords, axes, and bows faltered on all sides, wondering what kind of spell could cause this rising, swirling, red-toned light. Waves of heat rippled outward faster than the rings of fleeing soldiers, Geddoe could feel the kiss of it on his skin as he watched in perplexity, awe…and then horror. Something was wrong. The Rune in his right hand was prickling, as if sensing the true nature of this power. It wasn’t just red light, the spell-light of casting with a rune, that he was seeing, it was _fire_. Great waves of fire spreading outward at unnatural speed, pouring themselves like molten water through the bowl-shaped valley. A spasm from his hand jolted Geddoe alert just in time, he turned back to the troops he led. “Fall back!” he screamed, waving his bloodied sword in the direction they had just come from. “Fall back! Everyone! Get the hell out of here, _now!_ ” He immediately began to run, pushing past his exhaustion to find a reserve of strength that would carry his weary legs up the hill, out of the range of the mage-fire beginning to burn wildly out of control. The Harmonian forces in the valley were done for, but so were their own troops, he feared, and he couldn’t even fathom what the fate of the bearer of True Fire might be, trapped down in the heart of the firestorm. He glanced back only once to make sure their own people on the edges of the battle were retreating, out of prudence if not from orders, and caught a glimpse of a tiny, tiny blue star attempting to shine against the great glare of redness. No, True Water couldn’t do a thing to extinguish this blaze. Though Geddoe didn’t know exactly what had happened, it looked like True Fire was out of control, doing something no one, not even its bearer, could have expected – or created. This was the Rune’s own power, its own doing, and all Geddoe could do was run. He pulled back to a copse of trees at the crest of the hill and had to stop to catch his breath, having nothing left. A little Duckling ran to meet him, her left wing already up to cast a water spell to refresh him. He stood there, though, looking back, looking down at the conflagration still growing by the second. He couldn’t even make out individual people anymore, it was all just a sea of red flames, crowned with a pall of thick black smoke tinged in red, rising to blot out the huge red ball hovering over the western horizon. Grimacing, Geddoe had to force himself to leave that spot, because very soon it, too, would be ablaze, as the rune-fire licked up the dry grasses and brush and spread to where no living creature could contain it. Without a word, he waved to the assorted Grassland fighters waiting for his order, sending them further on into the growing darkness. They had to reach a safe place, and fast, they couldn’t stop for anything. The whole way they ran, the night before and behind them was lit up bright with red, as the fire burned at their backs.

  


12\. – Orange

It wasn’t hard to notice the dogs running around the castle grounds, but Geddoe didn’t expect one of them to be right outside the tavern door as he exited. He stopped short as the door slammed behind him, peering curiously down at the bundle of orange fur that nearly tripped him up. The dog, with its fetching green neckerchief, looked back up at him expectantly, mouth open and tongue lolling out in an expression purely meant to convey its utter love and desire for the food Geddoe was carrying with him. Puzzled and slightly amused, Geddoe decided to have a seat there on the porch in the warm sunshine to eat, rather than steal nibbles on the run while he wandered around taking care of minor errands. The team was scattered all over Budehuc, doing their best to play the part of tourists who had come to see what the hubbub was about, while surreptitiously making plans for how they would carry out Salome’s request to help defend the place on the morrow. Fortunately, the locals were very distracted by their own preparations, and didn’t have time to notice the mercenaries asking after supplies, runes, or the layout of the castle. Being as Geddoe already knew the castle better than anyone there, he had taken time to grab something to eat in the tavern first. As he stepped down the stairs and heaved his tall figure to a seat on the edge of the porch, the orange-colored puppy immediately nosed over his shoulder, eager to find out whether his lingering proximity meant he would be sharing that sandwich. Geddoe fended it off with a shrug, blocking the dog with a raised hand, and it obeyed by sinking onto its haunches and merely staring at him. The way its mouth hung open while it panted made it look like it was grinning at him. Geddoe deliberately took the first bite of his sandwich, almost lording it over the dog that he was eating it all by himself, but then he pinched off a piece of the breadcrust and held it out. The orange puppy stretched its head out and slurped the offering from his fingers without hesitation, leaving slime on his leather gloves. Chuckling to himself, Geddoe took another bite and then proffered another scrap, this time a bit of meat. The dog chomped it down eagerly and then sniffed all around the stone porch to make sure it hadn’t missed the slightest molecule in its haste.

The clink of plate armor announced the arrival of the young castle guard before she even opened her mouth, though her happy cry came a moment later. “There you are, Koroku! You naughty puppy, are you trying to take that man’s lunch away from him?”

Geddoe looked up at the cheerful voice and smiled vaguely. He had watched this young girl stand up to two of Zexen’s Mighty Knights just about an hour ago, he already felt a sense of admiration for her spirit. “It’s all right,” he assured. “I’m sharing.” He set his gloved hand on the orange dog’s head and ruffled its ears. “So it’s Koroku, huh?”

“Uh huh!” the girl chirped with a nod that made the feather on her helmet bob and sway. “His name’s Koroku, and he’s a beggar! He’ll sit right next to you until you finish and even then he’ll check you over to make sure you’re not holding out on him. Won’t you, you bad boy?” she added for the dog’s benefit, though with that tone it was hardly a scolding. Koroku wagged his tail and kept smiling. She then straightened up and pounded the butt of her spear into the ground. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you come in at the gates, I haven’t properly greeted you like a good commander should! I’m Cecile, Commander of the Garrison at Budehuc! Please enjoy your stay!”

Geddoe couldn’t help but give her a little, narrow-eyed smile at her enthusiasm. “Thanks, Commander Cecile. I’m sure I will.” He waved the sandwich. “I’m already liking the food.”

“Oh, good!” Cecile relaxed a bit as if she’d just made a friend. “You know, you seem kind of familiar. Wait!” She started so suddenly that Koroku jumped. “Didn’t you pass through here before? Where are your friends? Are they around here, too?”

“Who knows?” Geddoe replied evasively, lowering his gaze to his lunch. The last thing he needed was to attract attention – the castle residents remembering him from a few weeks ago would not help matters. Rather than volunteer any more than he had to, the mercenary captain focused on breaking off another small bite of his sandwich and offering it to the dog waiting patiently at his elbow.

Cecile’s expression fell. “I’m sorry things are so crazy right now. You see…we’ve run into a little bit of trouble with the Zexen Council. But don’t worry! Everything will be cleared right up, you’ll see! I know Master Thomas would be very upset if any of his guests were put in danger because of our problem.”

Geddoe lifted his head, mildly amused by her wild swings of mood from one sentence to the next. He gave her another slight smile to put her at ease. “It’s all right. I’ve seen a lot worse. But I don’t want to be in the way. I’ll just rest up a bit and be on my way.”

“I’m really terribly sorry,” Cecile repeated sincerely, brushing down her orange-plaid skirt with both hands. “It’s not usually like this, really. Budehuc is such a nice, peaceful place.”

“Then, I hope it stays that way,” Geddoe said with a nod.

By the return of her smile, he guessed that the young girl was more than comforted by his assurance. “I think Koroku likes you,” she noted. “But then again, he likes anybody who shares their food with him. That’s so nice of you.”

Geddoe caught himself feeding the dog once more, and thought to himself that it had been a very long time since anyone called anything he did “nice.” He retained his vaguely friendly smile and nodded. “Sometimes, it’s the little things.”

Cecile leaned down into the little dog’s face. “Now, Koroku, you let the nice man have some of his sandwich – he paid for it, after all! It’s his lunch! Oh – I have to go, I have so much I need to do.” She bowed deeply to Geddoe, the orange feather on her helmet flopping wildly forward. “Please enjoy your stay!” With that, she whirled so fast her skirt became a blur of orange and dashed off across the courtyard. Geddoe shook his head wryly, setting his hand on the puppy’s head and scritching his ears once more. It looked to him like Budehuc was in very good hands, after all.

  


14\. – Green

The thick canopy of the Kuput Forest let in just enough sunlight and rain to nurture the forest floor, turning it into a lush carpet of purest green, mostly moss, some small plants and grass. The light that filtered down through the branches was green, too, tinted by the leaves so high above the heads of any living creature, the way stained glass tinted the light that tried to enter the great halls and cathedrals of more civilized places. Yet, the supreme hush of Kuput and its lurid greenness was more of a sacred space to Geddoe than any lofty church or palace from Harmonia’s heart to the furthest shores of the continent. Not because anything of significance had ever happened to him there, only because it was one of few places he could go and be truly undisturbed, to be alone with himself and fear no reminder, good or bad, of the world outside. Indeed, perhaps it was because nothing ever really happened to him in Kuput that it could still bring him peace when he stepped under the shelter of the tallest trees. Other forests, from the thick, piney woods in the northern Outlands to the wild, tangled growths scattered through what was now Toran, couldn’t move him quite the same, and many, especially around the fringes of Grassland and the border with Harmonia, contained so many wretched memories. Like the forest in the foothills where he lost his eye, or the copse atop that ridge in Karayan territory where he had stood and watched in horror as rune-fire blazed across the grasslands. The huge, ancient trees of Kuput put him in an entirely different mood, as they captured the sun and turned it green, green like the layer of moss beneath his feet that muffled his steps. The further into the woods he trod, the quieter it became, as the height of the trees and the sheer size of the area distanced birds from one another, taking away the need for them to be constantly calling and reassuring themselves of their territory. Geddoe knew there were plenty of wild beasts in these woods, but they tended to leave a solitary man alone, perhaps thinking him no challenge. The great expanse of greenness was quiet enough that he could hear them coming long before they spotted or scented him and patiently alter his path to avoid them. Until he was hungry, he felt perfectly fine leaving well enough alone. It was a sort of meditation unto itself – listening, sensing, alerting, identifying, and then rerouting in order to sidestep danger, a kind of concentration that kept him from thinking too much about anything. Which was what he wanted; it was hard to travel across this land without passing through familiar territory, but right now, in his wandering, he needed to avoid those places. The towns, the clans, the reminders of what had been only twenty or thirty years prior. In the short lives of mortals, that sort of time could turn over a whole generation, and likely there were plenty of people who’d only heard of the Fire Bringer and the True Runes as a tale told by their elders, but there were still enough who had been there that Geddoe wanted to avoid. Three decades had not been long enough, yet, to help him figure out who he was supposed to be. He needed more time – alone, just like this. Passing through the green aura of Kuput like a shadow, a rumor, someone to be ignored the way the predatory creatures of the wood ignored him. His boot slipped a little on the mossy logs, but he still made hardly a sound as he made his way easily, step by step, through the heart of the forest.

An eerie chorus of the hooting calls of Horo-horos stopped Geddoe in his tracks with one hand resting on the trunk of a tree. They were far off, but the tall trunks and high, distant canopy echoed and magnified the sound, making it impossible to tell just how far away, and how many there might be. Of all the things he didn’t want to run into, Horo-horos were near the top of the list, as they were notoriously tough and didn’t pack a lot of meat if one managed to kill them. Geddoe turned to see if there was a better path bearing more south of the source of the cries, but a dark shape reared up out of the green undergrowth to block his path. It was a huge mantikra, perhaps as drawn to the calls of Horo-horos as Geddoe was adverse to them. The stare-down lasted only seconds, and then a big claw swept his way. Geddoe dove out of the way and rolled through the moss, coming up with sword drawn. Unfortunately, a thing that big couldn’t be taken down by him alone – not unless he felt like releasing his True Rune, and he was under a personal vow not to do so until it was time. As much as it chafed him to have to do so, Geddoe ducked under a leaning tree and ran. The mantikra was much slower, but it followed him, apparently having decided he made better prey than a Horo-horo. Splashes of green flew past his face as he ran through the forest, leaping over logs, crunching through mats of detritus, and sloshing through tiny rills that ran through every valley, it seemed. A burst of green light showed the way to a clearing, and the wet soles of Geddoe’s boots slid on the moss, sending him careening through the undergrowth like a blundering animal. He slashed wildly with his sword to clear himself a path to that bright greenness just beyond and came stumbling out into a bank of arrowheads, drawn and pointed at him like deadly thorns. He recoiled, and his hands came up out of instinct, though he still held his sword in one. Half-blended with the green light and green trees were the green-and-earth tunics of the Alma Kinan warriors, but before either side could make a move or call a truce, the arrow-points lifted to target the much larger, much noisier crashing of the mantikra crawling through the woods to find its prey. Geddoe threw himself to the forest floor as its claws thrust through the brush and a strident female voice called out the attack. Arrows flew over his head, crunching and pinging off the crab-like monster’s thick carapace. Suddenly outnumbered, the mantikra backed away, but the party of archers wasn’t there for fun – it was a hunting party, and they were out for just such a bounty. Geddoe remained crouched on the ground as most of them raced past him, intent on pursuing the creature and taking it down, merely for food and not because it had been after a lone traveler. Two of the female warriors remained behind, if only to examine the man who had blundered out of nowhere and pass judgement on him. Geddoe pushed himself to his feet and sheathed his sword immediately, wanting to show he wasn’t a threat. One Alma Kinan warrior kept her crossbow trained on him, while the other stepped closer. He remained silent, knowing it best to let them speak first, but the woman stalking up to him wore an expression of wonder and discomfort. As she drew close, he realized she was older – the correct age for someone who might have fought for the Grasslands under his lead. Sure enough, she spoke in a mature, throaty voice. “Is that you, Geddoe? What are you doing in Kuput Forest, after all these years?”

Geddoe refrained from raising his hands in surrender, though he felt like slinking away under such scrutiny. “Just passing through,” he said gruffly. “I give you my word.”

The elder woman with green ties in her hair waved to the other to lower her weapon. “It’s all right. This man is permitted.” She gazed up at him, though without much of a smile. “This is an unexpected meeting.”

“It wasn’t my intention to disturb the peace of Alma Kinan at all,” Geddoe murmured. The crash of pursuit had vanished, swallowed up by the green forest, leaving him in quiet, sullen reverence once again. “I am only making my way north. My apologies if I’ve strayed too close to the barrier.”

“You’re actually still some distance away,” the warrior assured him. “We’ve had to roam further to hunt this spring – the mantikra have migrated further south through the forest.” She inclined her head toward him. “If you need assistance, Alma Kinan will not turn you away. Not after what we owe…”

Geddoe shook his head slowly. “You owe me nothing. I’m just a traveler, now. All I ask is that you tell me whether I’m going in the right direction, and I’ll be on my way.”

The Alma Kinan warrior raised her arm, gesturing with a green-gloved hand. “That is due north. If it is a less-traveled path you seek, you’d do better to bear west of north. Keep the brightest light on your left, and you should come to the eaves of the forest by nightfall.”

“Thank you.” Geddoe nodded to both of the women, older and younger, and turned to leave them immediately. He never looked back, even though he could feel their eyes on his back. All he wanted was to return to his path, and his solitude, and not face another reminder of the days that once were.

  


16\. – Purple

Wyatt set his hands on his hips and shook his head ruefully. “I can not, for the life of me, understand how in the hell you managed to damage your sword that way.”

Geddoe stood facing him, cradling the battered remains of his weapon in both arms. The blade was intact, dulled and pitted but otherwise serviceable. The hilt, however… “I don’t know how to explain it,” he said with a helpless shrug. “Suffice it to say, the thing’s busted. Do you think there’s anyone in town who can repair this sort of thing?”

“I don’t know. You might be better off just getting yourself a new sword,” Wyatt suggested bluntly.

Frowning, Geddoe drew the weapon in closer to himself as if to keep Wyatt from taking it and throwing it away. “Don’t even. This sword has been with me for years, it’s saved my life more than once. I won’t have another.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes and laughed. “Honestly, you’re more attached to that than some men are to their wives. Fine, let’s see what can be had. This is a little backwater village, though, don’t get your hopes up.” He started off first, checking the smudges of smoke against the sky to see which one might be from the forges of a blacksmith. Their small strike force had gotten sidetracked and were behind the main Grasslands army, but they could go no further today anyway. The skirmish which had brought them to this tiny village of refugees and stragglers had been particularly fierce, but with the two Rune Generals leading, no one had been killed or injured – except for Geddoe’s sword. That was a casualty that had to be remedied before he could continue on, for even with the power in his right hand, he would be nearly useless without a weapon.

They located the blacksmith in due order, expecting to find him hammering on horseshoes or plow blades. Instead, the thin, tough-looking man was putting the finishing touches on a longsword that looked better suited to some Sindar warrior of old than the farmers and raiders making up the gathering armies of Grassland. Geddoe and Wyatt exchanged raised eyebrows before going in together. The smith lifted his head when two big men crossed his path, and gave them a knowing grin as he slid the magnificent sword into a plain leather scabbard. “Well, what’ll it be? Not looking for horseshoes, are you?”

Geddoe slid his blade along his arm to offer the hilt to the man. “Can you fix this?”

The blacksmith frowned a little, putting one hand out to glide his fingers over the shattered crossguard and cracked handle. “Hm. That depends. On how fancy you want it to be.” He drew his hand back and rubbed his chin instead. “Or how fast you need it. You fellows are with that raiding group that drove off the soldiers this morning, aren’t you?”

“To be honest, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” Geddoe said sternly. “Either you can fix it or you can’t. I’m not looking for a piece of art like that.” He nodded toward the other sword, resting now with the tip of the scabbard on the man’s boot.

“Well, then, you might be in luck.” The smith puttered around, setting his newly-crafted sword aside and then stretching out both arms to receive the broken one. “Leave her with me and I’ll make sure she’s passable by morning. I’ll warn you, though – I’ll have to work with whatever I have laying around here. Don’t have time to be sending away for special metals or pigments.”

“As long as it’s battle ready, and the handguard isn’t falling off anymore,” Geddoe groused, unbuckling the sheath from his belt to hand over as well. “I will make it worth your trouble.”

The smith nodded crisply, taking the leather scabbard and turning away to his tools. “Come after breakfast, my wife won’t let me do business till I’ve had my toast and eggs.”

The two generals shared another look and left, not even exchanging names or information with the smith. Geddoe knew he had no choice in the matter, either he trusted his sword with the man or he got a new one, and as stubborn as he was, a new one just wouldn’t do. He and Wyatt strode back through the village to the outskirts on the far side where their skirmish party had made camp, and passed the rest of the day making sure everything else was in good repair and resupplying for their further adventures. They had to push to make rendezvous after this, they had to get it all done and leave in the morning anyway. Most of their men spent the evening relaxing in the local tavern, but Geddoe himself double-checked reports from scouts and laid down early to sleep, his mind full of strategies and maps and plans for the march.

Come morning, the Grassland raiders dragged themselves up at dawn whether hung over or not, and after a quick breakfast, began to break camp while their leader went back down to the blacksmith’s to pick up his weapon. Geddoe ducked under the eaves of the shed where the forge sat to find the smith already at his workbench, looking like he was studying the sword. He turned at the sound of Geddoe’s boots plodding in, wearing a doubtful look. “Boy, when you say you need it by morning, you really mean it,” he noted. “Can’t get you to stay a little longer so I can give her a proper finish, can I?”

Geddoe frowned suspiciously back. “I thought you said you could fix it in time.”

“Oh, I did. I did,” the smith assured, picking up the blade on his bench and sliding it the rest of the way into its sheath. “But I really would have liked to give her a proper wrap. I was thinking black leather. I ain’t got the time for that, though.” He handed over the sword for its master’s inspection.

Geddoe’s eye went straight to the crossguard first, since that was what was sorely broken, and his frown deepened even more. He had to draw the blade and give it a swing to verify that it was still his, and finding that it was, he turned back to the smith. “This isn’t the guard it came in with,” he noted curtly.

“I told you I had to work with what I had,” the smith grumbled back. “It’s the same size and shape, at least.”

“It’s _purple._ ”

“Is that a problem?”

Geddoe scowled, resting the blade across his arm so he could turn the hilt and examine it. True, the new crossguard was exactly the same conformation as his old one – just a different color. A dark but very obviously purple color. “And that’s all you had to work with?”

“With war drawing on, I’m short on supplies,” the smith explained crossly. “I only ever keep a couple different pigments to forge into the metal, and I’m already completely out of most of ‘em. Sure, I could have left it plain silver, but where’s the fun in that? Come on…purple isn’t _that_ bad.”

Squinting at him, Geddoe retrieved the sheath and jammed the sword inside. Considering the short work time, he could have done a lot worse – the blade was repaired and honed, the crossguard completely fixed, and the pommel secured. In place of a nicer handle wrap, the smith had only been able to find time to tack down some rough cloth, but it was actually wrapped very professionally. The color purple should have been the least of his worries. “Plain silver would have been fine by me,” he said darkly. “I don’t have time to change it now, it’ll have to do.”

“You can always paint over it.” From his tone, it was as if the smith were sulking. “You forest ruffians probably wouldn’t know good craftsmanship if it came up and bit you in the face, anyway.”

Geddoe snorted indifferently and reached into his back pocket for the potch he had set aside to pay for the repairs. As much as he wanted to withhold some in punishment for _purple_ , he paid the man exactly what the job was worth. Even as he placed the coins in the smith’s hand, one of the men in his command came up behind him. “General Geddoe, sir, scouts have reported in. The road is clear, we can head out anytime.”

The smith’s eyes widened upon hearing who his customer was. Geddoe, in the meantime, simply buckled the scabbard back in place on his hip and seated his sword properly, glad to have it back. Without lifting his head, he addressed the blacksmith. “Usually swords get renamed when they’ve been reworked, don’t they?”

“Uh…” The man stammered for a moment. “W-well yeah…I was gonna name it ‘Crow,’ on account of your no-good black-feathered look, but that isn’t really appropriate, is it…?”

Geddoe looked down at the purple hilt resting atop the silver band at the neck of the sheath. “Crow it is,” he decided, turning on his heel and striding off.

  


18\. – Black

Most of the visitors to Budehuc were greatly enjoying the open-air baths, but Geddoe was content with a basin of warm water and a towel in his quarters below-decks. Not that he didn’t avail himself of the bath when needed, but a day of hanging about the castle training for future battles didn’t take too much out of him. He was glad to be able to close himself away in the room on the ship being used by the 12th unit, for the attention of the new generation of Fire Bringer was starting to become uncomfortable now that they all knew he carried the True Lightning Rune. Seeing him making preparations or sparring out on the training field by the dojo occasionally drew watchers or commentary, and the fame was disconcerting. Geddoe preferred his solitude, and being able to have the room to himself soothed his nerves. Queen was with Aila, Jacques was out on an errand with Hugo, and the other two were most likely on their way to drunkenness yet again. Geddoe stripped out of his leathers and his black shirt and stretched before going to the basin set up on the desk near the window, so he could wash his face and neck and cool down before deciding what to do with the rest of his day.

Pulling the black leather eyepatch from over the remnants of his right eye, the mercenary captain leaned down and cupped water from the basin in his hands, splashing it liberally over his face and through his dark hair. He combed his large hands backward through his hair, distributing the water all the way down his neck, and straightened up to let rivulets run down his broad back. He groped for the towel he had left next to the basin and dried his face, clearing his eye so he could see again. There was a small mirror propped up on the shelf of the desk, scrounged from who knows where around the castle, which the unit had been collectively using even though Queen had demanded it so she could do her hair. Geddoe caught a glimpse of his reflection, like a dark shadow, as he rubbed the towel against his neck, and paused a moment to take a deeper, longer look. It was no surprise that people often used the word “dark” to describe him, with the thick, shaggy mane of black hair trailing down to his shoulders and his one good eye a dark shade as well, with that heavy black smudge of an eyebrow arching over it. The black patch that usually covered his scars only added to the look, though at the moment, with it off, Geddoe could see the jagged edge of the line that marked where his right eye used to be peeking between the wisps of black hair that hung over his forehead. Breathing a sigh, he turned away from the shard of mirror and tossed the towel aside, going to grab his black shirt off the bed and pull it back over his head. Yes, that was more darkness for his appearance, black garb, black leather, everything but his gloves and boots dark and heavy. It wasn’t that black was his favorite color, or that he decided it would be better to look so foreboding and dark, it just happened that way. Geddoe actually took very little interest in his appearance and seldom acted to improve it, since the ageless life he lived meant that he never had to consciously think about such things. He never changed, he looked the same now as he did fifty years ago when the Fire Bringer settled the truce with Harmonia and set about a period of peace. He never cared whether anyone found him attractive, or intimidating, or anything else, unless he could turn that impression to his advantage to accomplish his job or his goals. Yet, somehow, the black seemed to suit him – tall, brooding, one-eyed, rarely smiling, a mercenary for whom intimidation was part of the job. Possibly part of the reason why he never swapped out the black for brighter colors. Then again, it was far more likely that he simply figured that since his body and face never changed, there really wasn’t a reason for his garb to change either.

As he adjusted the thick collar of his shirt, Geddoe drifted back towards the mirror and had himself another glance at his appearance. He didn’t have anyone to impress, but some instinct deep inside had him combing his fingers lightly through the curtain of hair that fell over the right side of his forehead, fluffing it a bit and confirming that it still showed far too much of the scar. The eyepatch lay beside the basin in front of him, so he plucked it up and quickly settled it back into place. The black leather had conformed to his face after all this time, and the suede was soft on his cheek, discreetly hiding the ugly scar that was his right eye and giving him the look of a rough, tough, unsavory fellow. Late-day sun streaming through the windows fell flush on his face, suddenly revealing that not all about Geddoe was so black. His dark hair actually had a soft brown tint to it in the sunlight, the gleaming onyx eye beneath his heavy brow was actually a stormy shade of gray. The black shirt was a lot more faded and worn than he thought, especially around the collar and where the leather armor rubbed against his shoulders. A faint hint of a smile touched his lips, and for a moment, the hardened mercenary disappeared and the gentle soul of a long-suffering man gazed back at him through the mirror shard. Then a cloud covered the sun, and Geddoe turned black again, black hair, black gaze, black clothes. Shaking his head slightly to rouse himself, he went to put his leather armor and gloves back on, and perhaps head down to Mamie’s café or the tavern for some food and company.

  


20\. – Colorless

It was a breathtaking sight – the water was literally so clear, one could see all the way to the bottom. Pools of such unspoiled clarity were rumored to exist so high in the mountains, and Geddoe had the great fortune to have found one on the day he needed it the most. Even at this altitude the sun beat down on him, doubly so in his black and leather, and the mountain spring beckoned him with its cold, colorless, mirror-smooth shine. Standing at the edge, Geddoe could peer down and see it was quite deep, and rocky all the way down. A small fissure to one side may have been the source of the spring, but the surface of the pool was completely undisturbed except by the occasional breeze that made small ripples shiver across it. It took only a few minutes for him to completely disrobe, and then he was stepping cautiously across the slippery stones comprising the bottom of the spring, waist-deep in the refreshing water and getting to a point where he could plunge in deeper. The pool was clear enough that he could open his good eye and see underwater, though he only dove deep enough to completely wet himself and feel the cold tingling through every inch of his hot, overworked limbs. When he surfaced, he tossed his long hair out of his face and idly swam back to the edge of the spring, seating himself on the submerged rocks like he would at a bathhouse. His sword lay within reach, but he’d come the last few miles to this secluded mountainside path without sight of so much as a furrfly, he anticipated no real trouble. All the same, a lone traveler such as he ought never completely relax.

The crystalline water chilled Geddoe nicely, chasing away his exhaustion, and he cupped a hand in order to discover whether it was safe to drink. The freshet bubbling up from the bottom so high up the mountain was perfectly clean, there weren’t even algae growing on the rocks, so he drank his fill and stretched to grab his waterskin and refill it before he muddled up the pool with his sweat and dirt. Once he felt clean and refreshed, he climbed out and sunned on the rocks until the wind across his pale skin convinced him to at least put his pants back on. Not the shirt, though, that could stand to be rinsed in the clear pool and left on the rocks to dry in the sun. On the whole, it was a wonderful break in his journey, worth the half-day’s layover just to be able to enjoy the cold spring all to himself. There was nothing up this way to bother him, and he had no real goals, no direction, his wandering completely pointless at this stage of his long life. There was no reason to climb down and return to the pass, to well-worn paths, to civilization, so Geddoe decided to make camp right there just downslope of the spring.

The only drawback to the miracle find was that no fish lived in it, no living things at all, but Geddoe was a survivalist and had already secured meat, mushrooms, and other foodstuffs before even climbing up these high paths. He had to hunt around to find enough wood for a fire, and to cut down into skewers and other tools, but it was no strenuous task now that he had bathed and was clad only in trousers and boots. His body rarely saw this much sun, he almost never had reason to be just lounging about without his armor, so his skin did not bear much, if any, color. By the time he had made camp and was ready to start a fire and cook, he’d tugged his shirt back on to protect his back and shoulders from being sunburned, though it would still be another hour before the sun would sink behind the nearest trees. Geddoe had picked up a small urn dropped by one of the creatures he’d killed that morning, it was perfect for heating some water and making himself a stew, a good hearty meal to add to the excellent treats he was giving himself that day. He cooked, ate, cleaned up the camp, and prepared to protect himself against wild animals in the night, at which point the sun had barely set. The sky overhead seemed devoid of any color, hanging at that moment of pale twilight when it could be neither blue of day nor gold like the western horizon, a time between times in which the world began to rest at peace. Geddoe stretched himself out on his bedroll and folded his arms beneath his head, gazing upward at the color-free zenith of the sky while he felt the wind dying with the light and listened to the crickets down in between the rocks begin their night song. It was so still up there in the realm of the clear spring, even the pop and hiss of his campfire seemed loud enough to drown out Geddoe’s thoughts. Fortunately, there wasn’t much on his mind, and the setting chased away even his deepest feelings, leaving him calm, placid…relaxed. With the clear, pale sky above still illuminating his camp, he decided to dig in his pack and look over some of the items he had collected from the wild creatures that had stood between him and this spring. He drew out a smooth, round, colorless crystal – a rune orb, as a matter of fact – and held it up against the sky, trying to discern which rune it might contain. Geddoe was ever on the lookout for a Thunder orb, to upgrade his regular Lightning rune, but those were very rare. Most of the orbs he picked up on his travels he sold to fund his existence, and this looked to be no exception. Tilting the colorless crystal just-so, he spotted the shape of the rune inside at last, translucent but easy to read: a wind rune. Nothing he could use. That was fine, he knew it would fetch a fair price at the next town he went into. The rest of his spoils weren’t nearly so interesting, so he laid there with his face to the pale twilight sky rolling the Wind orb between his fingers, peering through it until he could see the first star magnified through it like a prism. Color was finally starting to appear overhead – indigo, the stain of night creeping from the east – and the rune orb began to reflect the gentle orange gleam of his campfire. Geddoe put it away and cinched up his pack, and then laid back down to watch the stars come out and listen to the insects singing the night into being. He felt safe enough up there by the clear spring to close his eye and drift to sleep, devoid of care for one night. One night was all he needed.

  


22\. – Enemies

True Lightning prickled in Geddoe’s right hand as he stood alert, wary, his eye on the peculiar foursome that had invaded the sacred inner chamber of the Flame temple. He said nothing about having run into the masked bishop and his sorceress before, nor of recognizing the Silverberg behind them, for his input was not necessary. Not when the masked man was demanding that which he couldn’t have, the Rune which had just chosen Hugo. As he had in the past, Geddoe was already pledged to defend True Fire’s bearer with his life, even though his own Rune was drained of its top-level spells from the fight to subdue the dragon of flame and he was rather winded. Not to mention, he sensed more than just evil from these intruders. He had felt the prickle before, in LeBuque, in the bishop’s presence, but Geddoe got the feeling now that there wasn’t just one additional True Rune. Especially not when he gauged the bloodthirsty look in the mismatched eyes of the tall blond one.

What Hugo was saying was of no consequence, all that mattered was that he vehemently refused to give up the Rune. Geddoe’s hand went to the hilt of his sword at the same time as Hugo’s reached behind him and swept out the curved Karayan blade. A whisper to his blind right side told Geddoe that Chris Lightfellow had joined in, even as their enemies stood back and the masked man waved a hand to activate a rune. Geddoe tensed, not expecting it so quickly, ahead of his own attempt to cast a Soaring Bolt, but it wasn’t True in nature; _Pale Gate_ , he told himself, as chimera-like creatures appeared before them, blocking access to the rest of their enemies. He backed up a few steps, placing himself in a support position behind Hugo, ready to bring True Lightning to bear if he could get it off fast enough. He couldn’t ask Hugo to use the Rune he had just acquired, he wasn’t ready yet, _it_ wasn’t ready yet, but the young Karayan appeared to be acting on instinct instead, dashing forward and slashing at the foremost beast in an attempt to clear a path to the masked bishop. Out of the corner of his good eye Geddoe saw the masked man raise his hand high, and True Lightning suddenly ached with the sense that another True Rune was casting. Casting something huge, no less. But there was almost no time to make a decision, for there was an unexpected rush toward him and the flash of blades in his line of sight. Decades of honed instinct blocked and parried the strike immediately, even before Geddoe could register that it was the tall man in black who had attacked him directly, shooting like an arrow from behind the chimeras with his twin swords whirling one after the other. In a split second, a vague memory of Ace crossed his mind, saying something about a bad customer nearly killing Aila the night of the attack on Karaya…a savage-looking demon in black who could teleport himself…

Geddoe slashed back at his attacker, growling in frustration as the man dodged with barely any effort. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded, bracing himself to block and counter again.

The tall demon’s lips curled in a sneer. “More than a match for you,” he replied, sidestepping a wide swing from Chris and aiming for Geddoe instead.

Geddoe had to move fast in order to block the twin slashes, one after the other. “Forget me, help Hugo!” he ordered the Zexen knight, facing his opponent squarely. They traded a few more blows, neither getting a cut on the other, but the effort cost Geddoe both time and precious stamina. The man in black seemed to dart around him, naturally testing his blind side for an opening first, and then coming straight at him, all the while baring his teeth in an eager, savage grin. Geddoe cursed when he stumbled, and then drew back in order to cast that spell he desperately needed. A blade flashed toward him, but his adept use of low-level, fast spells succeeded in blasting lightning at all of their opponents at once. It was a pitiful blow when divided among six bodies, and it seemed to have no effect on the masked bishop in the rear line – it didn’t interrupt his spellcasting. As payment for taking this chance, Geddoe received a slash across the arm when he raised it to protect his head.

“Geddoe!” someone cried out, but he couldn’t see who from where he stood.

“Yuber,” a curt, youthful voice suddenly said. “Back off or you’ll get hit.”

Geddoe kept his stance ready to block another swing of the twin swords, but the demon heeded the warning and zipped away. The mercenary captain looked to see an eerie bluish flash as the masked figure’s Rune discharged, and something tensed in his chest in anticipation of what was about to hit him. For a few moments the chamber seemed to be filled with nothing but darkness and howling wind, and then he was flat on his back several feet away from where he had been standing, conscious, but aching all over. True Lightning prickled again, even as he told himself, _that was True Wind_. The identity of their enemy seemed all too clear now, as Geddoe pried himself up from the floor. Something had protected him, either the Jizo in his pocket or his own Rune’s reflective ability, but Hugo and Chris were not so lucky. They had, at least, managed to wipe out the monsters before succumbing to the wind-spell, leaving Geddoe staring at a formidable threesome with the knowledge that he alone could not win against them. Yet, he could not just give in, not when Runes were at stake. Gritting his teeth, he prepared to charge True Wind’s bearer directly, but the one called Yuber darted into his line of sight again, laughing maniacally as he slashed and thrust. They faced off, even as the sorceress cast a water spell to heal herself and Luc, sinking any hopes of prevailing even further. Still Geddoe refused to simply yield, striking as hard and fast as he could at Yuber, finally getting a hit on him. The demon growled and backed away a step, but then crossed his blades in front of him with a look of concentration. Geddoe could not identify the rune which was used on him, nor even recall a few seconds later exactly what it did to him, but the next thing he knew he was picking himself up again, gasping for breath, his sword a few feet away and his limbs numb. Hugo and Chris were stirring, but they, too, had been disarmed and defeated, so consciousness didn’t matter. Geddoe glared up into the smirking face of his victor, vowing right then and there to destroy the demon no matter what it took.

  


23\. – Lovers

Stomping irritably through the camp didn’t solve any problems, but it did make Geddoe feel better. “Where the hell is he, already?” he demanded of several fighters idly gathered around the fire. “Have any of you seen him?”

The men – two Karayans and a handful of old-school bandits – looked at each other blankly. Only one had an answer to give. “I think he went for a walk that way,” he suggested, pointing over his shoulder to the trees. “With Sana.”

Geddoe’s one good eye rolled in annoyance. “No wonder,” he growled. “When Wyatt gets back, tell him I went to fetch our fearless leader and beat some sense into him. I’ll be right back.”

If things weren’t so urgent, Geddoe would have been content to let his friend stay out with his newfound lover as long as he wanted, because he really didn’t relish the chance of interrupting them in the middle of their sweet nothings. Not for their sakes, but for his own. He hated all that fluff, the cooing and the kissing and the way they were always fawning over each other. They were careful not to do it openly in front of the troops, but when only Geddoe and Wyatt were around, they could be absolutely nauseating. But the briefing over the latest reconnaissance that had come in from their scouts was deadly important, it literally could not wait for the lovebirds to get back from their walk. Geddoe had no choice but to go and find the Grasslands’ champion and drag him back by the scruff of his collar, sweetheart or no. He strode powerfully through the woods on a mission, following the path around the back of the bluff to where it looked out on the valleys below. A nice place to walk and think, or take in the view with a lover, if there weren’t more important things to do. The thud of his thick-soled boots and the swish and creak of his leather as he stormed along the path could probably be heard by any living creature in the trees, but somehow, he managed to sneak up on his target and interrupt them in the most blustery way possible. The young couple were only standing on the overlook with their arms around each other, but they still startled and blushed when the undergrowth swished aside and the big, dark, grim figure of the True Lightning wielder came into the sunlight. “Oh, Geddoe,” his friend and fellow rune-bearer said brightly, covering his embarrassment at being caught snuggling with his lover. “I should have known it was you, making all that noise.”

Geddoe’s eye briefly shifted to the brown-haired young woman clinging to her beloved’s arm, looking only mildly disgruntled at his intrusion. “You’re late,” Geddoe said bluntly. “We need to get this meeting started. Sorry, Sana,” he added as an afterthought.

“It’s all right, Geddoe,” the woman assured, tossing her long hair back with a swish as she turned to her companion. “He’s right, you should go. We can take a walk together later.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep running off on you,” the man they all called Flame Champion pouted at her, stroking her cheek. “I promise, after I get this recon meeting out of the way, I’ll find you. Maybe we can have dinner.”

Geddoe stood by with his arms folded, trying not to watch or roll his eye again, tempted through he was to do the latter. Sana glanced at him and then giggled. “Go on, before Geddoe picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. I’m not bothered, don’t worry, sweetheart. I can live with being apart from you until dinner-time.”

“All right…” He darted in to kiss her one more time – Geddoe studiously looked the other way – and drew himself out of her arms with a reluctant sigh. “Our usual spot. I’ll be there the minute I can get away.” He backed away from her, so as to continue gazing at her until the last minute, but Geddoe grabbed him by the collar of his red coat and hauled him in the correct direction so he wouldn’t run into any trees. He laughed at his gruff friend’s demeanor, as he always did. “Oh, Geddoe! You’re such a stick in the mud. One of these days, it’ll be you, and you’ll feel bad for always sighing at me like that.”

“Not likely,” Geddoe said darkly, striding with the same purposeful tread as on his hunt. 

“Oh, come now…” The fire hero practically danced around him, teasing him with a look as they walked side-by-side back to camp. “Never say never, Geddoe! Anyone can fall victim to love when they least expect it. Just you wait. Someday, you’ll find the right one for you, and I’ll get to say ‘I told you so.’ Mark me.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Geddoe retorted. “I don’t need it, I don’t want it. End of story.”

“Aw, Geddoe…” Dark eyes saddened a little. “Don’t say that about yourself. It could happen, you just have to give it time, and let it happen naturally. I mean…you’ve got all the time in the world…”

“Sana doesn’t,” Geddoe said bluntly. “What are you going to do, when she ages and dies and you can’t?”

“I don’t care.” The Flame Champion’s expression hardened. “I love her, Geddoe. I love her, and I’m going to marry her. Before or after the war ends, it doesn’t matter – we’re going to get married and be together. The Rune isn’t going to stop me.” His right hand clenched into a fist.

“Brave words,” Geddoe said, his voice softening but still deep and dark. “But bravery and devotion won’t stop the march of time. You have to think about this, don’t let your feelings get the better of you.”

A long sigh came from the man beside him. “You don’t feel enough, sometimes, I think. You need to learn to trust people more. Maybe then you’ll find out that being in love isn’t such a horrible thing.”

Geddoe retained his grim, businesslike frown. “There’s only two people in this world I need to trust. Anything else is excess baggage.”

Another sigh punctuated their determined march into camp. “I swear, someday, Geddoe. Someday, I’ll get to say ‘I told you so.’ You just watch. All right, let’s get this out of the way. I’ve got a dinner date to keep.”


	2. Chapter 2

24\. – Family

The bare rocks of the cliffside perch reflected the heat of the campfire, keeping the little nook cozy as the night chill fell over the mountain pass. Geddoe sat on one of the rocks just above them, keeping watch while he half-heartedly listened to the conversation going on below. On the one hand, the addition of Aila provided a welcome change to the timbre and demeanor of the voices of his unit, but on the other, she was full of questions in exactly the way every mercenary in the land was not. Having never been outside Karayan territory before, she wanted to know all about the place they were headed to and about the people who had consented to let her join them, no matter how private and secretive they were about themselves. At least, Ace was a big talker and Queen personable enough to keep the young archer engaged in innocent conversation for a while, and the latter deftly kept turning the queries around to get Aila to tell them about her own village. Not that any of them were curious about Karaya, but it saved them having to answer her questions. Unfortunately, with the disaster so fresh, talking about her people soured Aila’s mood. “No, I’m sure Chief Lucia is fine,” she said defiantly, curling her arms around her knees and resting her chin on them. “She’s amazing. No one can defeat her, definitely not the ironheads. You’ll see.”

Jacques sat beside her, poking at the fire with a stick. “Will your family be worried, when they can’t find you?” he murmured.

“Everybody in the clan is my family,” Aila pouted. “We all look out for each other, whether we’re related by blood or not. It’s like having a bunch of aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters, so yeah, they probably will worry.”

Queen smiled kindly at the girl. “I can imagine. It’s kind of like that with us…none of us are related at all but we’ve got each other’s backs.”

“Aw, that’s even worse than the ‘just a friend’ thing,” Ace complained at her from across the fire. “You thinking of me as a brother.”

“If you were my brother I’d disown you,” Queen retorted with a glare at him.

Aila looked around at all of them. “Do any of you know your real families? Or…?”

The mercenaries traded wary looks. “It’s not what you think,” Ace quickly answered. “It’s not like we’re all delinquents who ran away from home to join the Defense Force. But, uh…you know how it is. When you put your life into someone else’s hands, they kind of become your family, you know?”

“I’ve always believed that it’s the people you surround yourself with who are your family, not the people who share the same blood,” Queen added smoothly.

“Your blood kin are still in Crystal Valley, aren’t they?” Joker asked her. Queen glared hard at him, so he said nothing more about it.

“I’ve got a sister in Vinay del Zexay,” Ace offered.

“My family is fine,” Jacques added quietly. “They exist, anyway.”

Aila lifted her head and spotted the figure furthest from them at the edge of the darkness. “What about the captain?”

Geddoe made no sign of having heard her. The others followed her gaze and then pretended they hadn’t. “Uh, Captain Geddoe doesn’t really talk about himself,” Ace muttered toward the fire. “I don’t know the first thing about his past. Do you?” he added with a look shot toward Joker.

The martial artist scowled back. “Why me?”

“You’ve known him longer than the rest of us, you’ve been in the unit since he became captain!”

“So?” Joker stole one quick glance back at Geddoe before focusing on the fire as well. “It’s like you said. He doesn’t talk about himself. Ever.”

Their gruff demeanor did not dissuade Aila. She sat up a little and called to him. “Captain Geddoe! What about you? Where is your family? Are they still living?”

Geddoe stirred slightly, if only to cross his arms and tuck his hands under his elbows for warmth. He neither looked her way nor replied. Queen patted the Karayan archer on the back. “Don’t mind him, he’s like that all the time,” she assured. “Most mercenaries don’t want to talk about those things, for one reason or another.”

“Well, if he had a bad family, then he should say so,” Aila grumbled, settling back down, “not leave everybody wondering. It doesn’t make you a bad person, especially if you don’t stay with them.”

Aila’s persistence had gotten Ace’s curiosity up. “Maybe they threw him out when he was a kid and he had to live on the streets,” he murmured conspiratorially.

“Or maybe he’s just from Harmonia and doesn’t want to say so in front of non-Harmonians,” Queen countered with a nasty smirk.

“Maybe he thinks you should all shut the hell up and leave it alone.” The stern growl definitely came from Geddoe, though when they looked, his face was still turned away, toward the night.

Aila blinked and then shrank down, huddled behind her knees. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was so bad.”

Geddoe sighed hard. “You should take Queen’s advice. Don’t ask mercenaries about themselves. There are reasons they don’t talk about it.” A brief silence fell among the camp, broken in the end only by the captain getting up and pacing into the darkness, preparing to make a watchful circuit of their camp. The others watched him go, but didn’t return to speculating about his family ties. It seemed the subject was undeniably taboo.

  


25\. – Strangers

As a rule, Geddoe did not consider himself a man of high ethics – he was no knight. It wasn’t his job to right wrongs and strike down evil wherever it might rear its ugly head. Yet, there were certain things even he couldn’t ignore, such as the scream of a woman coming from behind a row of darkened buildings. It wasn’t fully night, yet, the sun was low and streamed blood-red fingers between houses, but the district where Geddoe walked in search of a cheap place to bed down was already deep in shadow and rife with trouble lurking between the boarded-up old shops and narrow alleys. He didn’t exactly race to the rescue, but he did raise his head and glance around as he walked a steady pace, wondering if he would come across the source of the alarm so easily. Coming to a long row of sulking buildings with only tiny gaps between them, he heard the sounds of struggle before he could see anything, and zeroed in on the ruckus out of sheer curiosity. The setting sunlight illuminated one of the gaps, down which Geddoe could hear the low voices and snide laughter of the kind of men he would expect to be making trouble. He stepped up to the wall so he could peer down with just his good eye, investigating first to be sure he wasn’t foolishly walking into something uninteresting.

Halfway down the alley, three men formed an impenetrable ring around a woman, who was pressed up against the wall as if trying to melt through it and escape. Her face was in shadow, but her posture clearly indicated that she did not want to be there. One of the men had his hand on her mouth or her throat to keep her from screaming again, and another was tugging at the bodice of her simple dress. Geddoe’s eye narrowed in suspicion, and his left hand came up off the hilt of his sword in order to begin casting with his Lightning rune. The woman must have wrestled free enough to speak, for just then he could hear her plaintive voice even though she was trying to keep it down. “Please, no, I’m begging you,” she whimpered. “Let me go.”

“C’mon,” one of the men drawled. “We’re not gonna hurt you, baby. Not unless you give us a reason. We just want a little something from you, then we’ll let you go. Promise.”

“No, no,” came the quavering voice, “please, just…leave me alone! I’ll give you all the potch I have, just don’t touch me!”

“I think what you got under there is worth more than a few measly potch,” a second man sneered, tugging the collar of her blouse down.

At that instant, lightning crackled down the length of the alley, blasting all three men with enough force to throw them aside. The middle one got up quicker, only to stare into the silhouetted figure of a rather tall, broad-shouldered man with a sword at his hip. They all cursed at him, but the Thunder Runner spell had been enough of a blow to make the cowards stagger up and flee. Geddoe liked having the sun at his back, it obscured his identity, and he was ready to draw if they were the kind to force the issue at all, but this result was fine, too. He could have easily taken them all, but since he didn’t have to, the incident was over with little fuss. The woman stared at him in astonishment, her arms clutched over her chest to hide herself from this stranger’s gaze, but he only stepped up beside her to ensure that her attackers were well gone. “Get out of here,” he warned her. “Those kinds are like roaches – more will crawl out of some crack if you don’t leave fast enough.”

“W-who are you?” she wondered, and then hastily added, “thank you.”

Geddoe turned on his heel and stalked back up the alley without waiting to see if she was smart enough to heed him. “Nobody of consequence,” he muttered. “Just go home.”

He continued on his way, searching out an inn adjoining a tavern where he could get a meal and a drink before bed, shrugging off the incident almost immediately. Helping out strangers was not a thing he did on principle, it was merely a matter of him being in the right place at the right time. No one deserved to be a victim, in his mind, and if he just happened to be the one who stopped such a thing, so be it. He found a place that looked decent enough, booked a room, and sat down in the tavern to a bowl of what turned out to be a ridiculously good stew and a tankard of ale. Such small comforts were his luxury, these days, and he set to without speaking much to anyone or attracting any attention at all. This wasn’t the part of town where people would pry into the business of solitary strangers, thankfully, so Geddoe was allowed to eat in peace. At least, for a while.

Close to the end of his dinner, he sensed someone approaching on his blind side. Geddoe turned his head only enough to catch a glimpse – it was the woman from earlier. His brow twitched slightly, but he kept on eating without otherwise acknowledging her. Unfortunately, she was interested in speaking with him, and came right up to the table. “Excuse me, sir,” she said quietly. “I just…I wanted to thank you for what you did for me. Those men…well, I know what they were going to do and if you hadn’t come by…”

Geddoe did not lift his head to look at her, taking more interest in the last bits of stew in the bottom of the bowl. “I thought I told you to go home,” he muttered. “These streets aren’t safe at night.”

“Yes…I know.” The woman slid into the empty spot on the bench next to him. He finally had to give her at least some of his attention, glancing to find her looking down shyly with her hands clasping a shawl over her shoulders. “But I have to work to feed myself, so I must be out late.”

“I don’t care about your life story,” Geddoe said sternly, focusing back on his meal. “Do whatever you want, just remember that a person like me won’t be there next time.”

“Are you sure I can’t do something to thank you?” she pressed, laying one hand on his arm. “You were very heroic. I can give you something in exchange for your trouble…”

He turned to her, about to tell her he was no hero and she shouldn’t waste her money when he realized her other hand was drawing down the front of her bodice in a supposedly seductive manner. Geddoe’s face darkened at the utter irony. “What are you doing?” he growled. “Stop it. I’m not interested.”

“Are you sure?” The woman tilted her head up, still trying to ensnare him. “I would be pleased to show you just how much I appreciate you rescuing me…”

Geddoe recoiled slightly, though the wall was at his other side so he couldn’t go far. His glare was one of disgust. “I didn’t do it so you could throw yourself at me,” he snorted. “Go find someone else who’s interested. I’m not your hero.”

She frowned up at him. “I’m not some sort of prostitute, you know,” she pouted. “Those men were just going to take what they wanted from me. I can make my own choices, and I’m giving it to you freely, because I want to. It’s worth it, because you saved me.”

“The answer’s still no.” Having lost his appetite for the rest of his ale, Geddoe physically pushed back the table so he could exit the bench around her if need be, and stood up. “Go home, lady. I don’t need to be repaid. I’m no one noble like that, I’m a mercenary, and I don’t _want_ you.” Without even looking at her, he sidled past and left the tavern, his mood soured. He wasn’t interested in playing with strangers, as unusual as that might seem to most others in his profession, but he had his reasons. The entire evening was proof enough in his mind that he made the right choice.

  


26\. – Teammates

The slender, shy young man followed behind Geddoe without a word, head lowered but eyes alert to whatever the tall, dark mercenary was going to throw him into. Geddoe moved with the swift, purposeful tread of a captain on a mission, head high, shoulders back, as much the picture of confidence as the man behind him was the picture of timidity. He led the way through the stone-paved streets of the town as if by instinct, easily guessing exactly where he could find the other three, and sure enough, as Geddoe rounded a corner he could hear them before he spotted them. Ace and Joker were already in each other’s faces, talking over each other without listening, and Queen stood aside with her arms folded, debating whether to interrupt them just to yell at them for yelling. She was the first to spot Geddoe coming as he moved like a great black shadow through the nondescript sunny streets of this little wayside town in the northern Outlands, and shot out a hand to smack Ace in the arm to get his attention. Ace yelped and rubbed the spot as he rounded on her, but one gesture made him swallow his tirade and instantly put on a grin. “Hey, Captain!” he called out. “It’s about time you showed up! We were startin’ to worry!”

The three mercenaries turned to face him with a mix of relief, curiosity, and impatience, but Geddoe answered them with only his usual stoic look. “Figured I’d find you outside the tavern,” he said with the tiniest whiff of humor in his droll voice, directing it more to the two men who dropped their vociferous argument instantly upon the arrival of their captain. Naturally, all three of them couldn’t help the slide of their eyes to the man accompanying him, so Geddoe wasted no time. He stepped aside to reveal the willowy blond man with fine features and strikingly keen eyes, clad in a blue coat that indicated he’d spent a lot of time in northern climes. “This is Jacques,” Geddoe said without preface. “He’s joining the team.”

The other three looked startled for a moment, even though they had some inkling that this event might be coming. The message Geddoe had sent ahead of him only hinted that he was bringing something to help the team, leaving it up to them to speculate while they waited to rendezvous. Queen smiled a little, Joker peered, and Ace suddenly flailed as if taken aback. “Whoa, whoa, hey, wait,” he protested. “Joining the team? Do you have any idea what kind of paperwork I have to do to get a new recruit added?”

“No,” Geddoe said honestly, with an indifferent tone to indicate that he didn’t care, either. “Just do it, Ace.”

Joker rubbed his square chin thoughtfully as he eyed Jacques, who stood half behind Geddoe with his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his coat. “So, Jacques, is it?” he said gruffly. “What kind of skills you got?”

Jacques looked at him blankly. Granted, there was an extremely large crossbow slung across his back, making the answer rather obvious, but he didn’t seem inclined to say so. Ace had gotten over his paperwork complaint and joined Joker in giving the newcomer an eyeball. “I dunno, Captain,” he said dubiously, “I’m not the kind of guy to tell you how to do your job, but…do we really need a fifth member? I thought we were getting on just fine already.”

“Jacques is a skilled sharpshooter,” Geddoe said bluntly, brooking no argument. He lifted his chin and stared down at Ace, a look made even more intimidating by the eyepatch. “We can use him. That’s all you need to know. Fill out the necessary papers for him, we’ll drop it off next time we pass through Caleria.”

Of the three of them, Queen was the only one who had any manners. She hid whatever reservations she might have had about the silent interloper behind a polite greeting. “Nice to meet you, Jacques,” she said pleasantly. “Call me Queen. That’s Ace, and Joker. Don’t mind them, they’re like this all the time.”

“Hey!” both of the older men complained.

She continued pleasantly on without missing a beat. “So where did the captain pick you up?”

Jacques glanced hesitantly up toward Geddoe from under his headband, but the captain made no move to answer for him, forcing him to finally speak up. “Um…up north,” he murmured in a voice as youthful as his looks.

Joker rolled his eyes. “No wonder,” he snickered for his teammates to hear, “he and the captain must get along real well. Talks about as much as he does.”

Geddoe turned his superior gaze on the thickset martial artist, then. “Is that so?” he challenged.

Joker held his hands up defensively. “No offense, Cap’n!” he roared with laughter. “Me and Ace do all the talking for the whole group anyway, right?”

“Speak for yourself,” Ace grumbled.

In the silence that followed, Jacques mustered up a few more words. “Nice…to meet you.”

Geddoe nodded his approval. “Now that that’s out of the way…” He turned back to Ace. “What’s the news?”

“Oh, uh…” Ace scratched the back of his neck. “There’s a little hunting job we gotta do while we’re up here, before we can head down to the Grasslands. Shouldn’t take long, but it’ll be a good chance for the new guy to get adjusted into the team.”

“Sounds good.” Geddoe looked around the four of them, knowing with just that one glance that the veterans would allow the new teammate a chance, even if they couldn’t get a good read on him yet. He made his decisions in that instant. “We’ll get a room and stay here tonight, just to settle in. We’ll head out on the mission in the morning.”

Ace clapped his hands together happily. “You got it, Captain!” he said brightly. “C’mon, less talking, more drinking!”

He and Joker turned and went straight into the tavern near at hand, though Queen took the time to shake her head and roll her eyes before following. Geddoe turned to Jacques, then, and cracked the slightest smile for the shy young man. “I told you they were an interesting bunch,” he said wryly.

Jacques nodded, and then he, too, smiled very faintly. “Yes, you did, Captain Geddoe.”

“Welcome to the 12th.” Geddoe clapped his gloved hand to Jacques’ shoulder and steered him inside, heading to join the rest of the team at whatever trouble they were about to get into.

  


30\. – Death

The sword coming at his head gave the young man almost no time to react, though his speed favored him in the battle. He ducked the swing and simultaneously thrust forward with his own blade, sinking it deep into the heavy body lunging at him. Sharpened steel passed through leather and linen and plunged almost effortlessly into flesh, spilling blood with a sickening squelch. The big mercenary hired to protect the caravan was dead before his body hit the ground, a last breath whispering out of him as the light faded from his eyes. Geddoe pulled back as the dead man slumped at his feet, staring widely in awe at what he had done. He wasn’t thinking, he moved solely on instinct and had no plan for or against the killing of the guards…but now it was over. He had done it. The sounds of battle around him seemed to silence in the instant he realized he had killed his first man.

At nineteen, he was just old enough to decide to run with bandits, but too young to be considered much more than a whelp in their eyes, a desperate hanger-on who was probably going to be one of the first to die in any given raid. He was learning sword-work quickly from their leader, and though he could be a bit smug in his dealings with the other peons, Geddoe at least understood that he was lowest-ranked and had to fight to earn his keep. Yet, raiding orders were only to “take out” any escorts or guards with the caravan, not specifically to kill or not kill. The only reason the young man hadn’t yet was his own inexperience, and his tendency to miss out on being either a target or an attacker. He stood over the body of his first kill, blinking absently, until he came to himself and realized the fight was over. The merchants had been driven into the woods, and the spoils were theirs. He stumbled into line to help cart it all back to their camp, for the moment saved from having to think about any of it. Orders came first, and then payment, then celebration, as it always did.

For Geddoe, the rest of the night passed in a blur, the festivities of his comrades ringing hollow in his ears. He didn’t want to think of himself as shaken by his deed, but something didn’t seem right in his mind. He had no name for the feeling, but it was enough to make him get up from the campfire and wander off after everyone had eaten, not really feeling like being handed a mug of the fiery whiskey the others were starting to pass around. As he walked a wandering path around the fringes of their camp, he reached up and pulled out the thong tying his long hair back, letting it fall free over his shoulders and face, obscuring his eyes. A few more paces brought him past the tent belonging to their leader, and for a fleeting moment Geddoe thought of taking advantage of the darkness of the woods behind the tent to just keep walking, to escape, to run. But a light sound to his left arrested his attention, and he glanced to see the bandit leader sitting in the door of the tent, running a whetstone along the blade of a knife. The bandit didn’t look up, but murmured, “Where are you off to, Geddoe?”

“I wasn’t…off to anywhere,” Geddoe replied defensively, clenching a fist at his side. “I’m just taking a walk to clear my head. That’s all.”

His leader nodded slowly, raising the knife to inspect the blade in the light from the lamp beside him. “Good work, today. I saw the guy go at you, to be honest I didn’t know who would come out of it alive. Lucky for all of us it was you.”

Geddoe looked away, still harboring vague thoughts of fleeing into the trees, but the urge was much weaker now. After a moment’s silence, he murmured, “Can I ask you something, sir?”

The bandit glanced toward him, sheathing his knife. “Sure.”

“When you…” Geddoe paused and revised his query. “Are you supposed to feel something when you take another person’s life?”

The older man gazed inscrutably at him. “Why, do you feel something?” he asked in typical mentor fashion.

“I don’t know.” Geddoe turned fully towards his leader, black hair hanging in scruffy sheets around his thin face. “I’m not afraid. I don’t feel sick or anything. I just…don’t really feel anything. I mean, he was alive and now he’s dead, but I didn’t know him or anything about him. I don’t care if he was…if he had a family or anything. I killed him and I don’t care.” He sighed heavily. “But I still don’t like the empty feeling.”

“Well,” the bandit shrugged, “I suppose that’s better than being happy about it.” He drew his knees up and rested his arms on them in a relaxed pose. “That was your first time killing someone, eh? If you plan to live to see twenty, much less thirty, it won’t be your last, so you’d better get used to it. But I’ll be honest with you…” His gaze wandered away, toward the firelight in the center of the bandit camp. “For a real man, that feeling never really goes away. Now, if you’d told me you felt awful about killing that merc, and were going to run away because you couldn’t handle it, I’d have sent you packing. Told you to go be a knight, because knights have honor codes like that.” He tilted his head, giving young Geddoe a sagacious look. “On the other hand, if you told me you liked it, I’d have to keep my eye on you, and not in a way you’d like. I don’t abide by men who thirst for blood, Geddoe. Those kind of men can’t give orders and won’t take them either. They’re only good for drawing fire and getting themselves killed.”

Geddoe folded his arms self-consciously over his chest. “So, what. I’m supposed to walk down the middle?”

“If you want to be honorable and live by some personal code, I don’t care. It’s your choice,” his leader sniffed. “But I don’t expect those kind of men to make good bandits. If you want to be good at your job, and stay alive long enough to spend the profits, you almost have to find the middle ground. At least in my troop,” he added with a wry grin. “There’s other choices out there.”

Geddoe found himself staring shyly at the ground. “I don’t want to be in anyone else’s troop. You…you’re a good leader.”

“All right, then.” The bandit stretched his legs out again, sighing. “I’m sure you’ve heard it said, kid, but death is a part of life. Death is also part of our job. Sometimes it’s not going to be hired hands or soldiers, it’s going to be people with something to protect, and they’ll do their damnedest to kill you first. If you start handicapping yourself with thoughts of who these people are and what life you’re taking away from them, you won’t last very long. Remember that there’s a difference between wanting to kill, and needing to kill.” He closed his eyes. “Even if you _need_ to kill, you don’t have to like it if you don’t want to.”

The young man lifted his head, his eyes softening a little as he listened to everything his mentor said. “I don’t like it,” he finally admitted, both aloud and to himself.

The leader shrugged again. “That’s fine. But can you do it if you have to?”

Geddoe did not hesitate to nod.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He pushed himself to his feet and made to duck into his tent. “Go to bed. Sleep it off or lie awake thinking, whatever gets you through it. As long as you’re ready to go when I need you again.”

“Yes, sir,” Geddoe murmured. “Uh…thanks.” As the bandit leader slipped into his tent and closed the flap, Geddoe wandered back across the camp to his own, which he shared with a number of the other highwaymen. They were all drinking beside the fire, so he could close himself away alone and deal with the act of death in his own way.

  


31\. – Sunrise

Dim, pallid light was slowly creeping into the eastern rim of the sky, bringing a gray stain to the indigo-black of the retreating night. That light had yet to reach the ground, so the tiny camp remained swathed in darkness but for the faint orange glow of embers from the dying fire. Three featureless hulks lay beside the campfire, three sleeping mercenaries wrapped tightly in blankets and bedrolls against the chill like cocooned chou-chous. In their line of work, there was no turning down jobs just because they might end up spending nights like this, outdoors in the mountains in the autumn, though all of them privately hated having to stay afield like this for too long. At least they weren’t too high up, but it didn’t make the night any less cold, nor comfortable in the least, sleeping on the hard ground among the rocks. Their leader was perched above them, carrying out the last leg of the watch from a position he deemed comfortable enough, stretched out on a series of wind-smoothed boulders that formed a natural lounge-chair shape facing east – facing the sunrise, and the trail. Geddoe had chosen this spot for their camp because it was inaccessible from the wild side except by winged creatures, which he feared far less than marauders of the two-footed variety. Those animals would leave them alone by night, but thugs, thieves, and highwaymen would be all too glad to take advantage of the cover of dark and the illusion of having cornered a party of travelers in the mountains. Queen had taken first watch, Ace the second, and now Geddoe lounged on the rocks with his feet propped up on one, the toes of his boots crossed and pointing toward the dawn, his gloved hands clasped on his stomach and his neck and ears nicely protected by the collar of his shirt, which he’d nestled down into to pass the wee hours of the night. Fortunately, there hadn’t been any trouble at all to speak of, no reason to sit up and rouse the others to their blades, but that was no reason not to remain on watch until day had fully come and the camp began to wake.

Over the course of the next hour the sky grew gradually lighter, the paleness becoming tinged with blue, and eventually evolving into a faint yellow at a painfully slow pace. Geddoe silently watched the dawn come through a half-closed eye, not needing the light nor his sight to keep alert. He was mostly relying on his other senses to tell him if anyone was approaching their camp, particularly his sharp hearing. The path that ran by their position was rough and strewn with rubble, and the only trees to be had were at their backs up a short slope of more rocks, so if any living creature was around, it was far more likely they would hear it coming long before they saw it, whether in daylight or darkness. Even so, the stronger the dawn light grew, the more often Geddoe let his eye drift open to gauge the landscape around him. Bit by bit he was able to see more of the rock formations which, until now, had merely been black hulks against the indigo starry sky, and then the gray line of the path wending its way up towards them. It wasn’t until the sky had become almost golden that he realized just how cold it was – his breath steamed faintly in the still air. He wasn’t prone to the cold, he always seemed to be warmer than anyone else around him, so he hadn’t noticed the air temperature where he lounged, clad in his leathers and thick gloves. Geddoe watched the wisps of vapor trail straight up into the air for a moment before turning his eye back to the horizon. It was about to happen, he could taste it in the air. The whole world seemed to hold its breath in anticipation, even though the arrival of day came in such a subtle, unheralded way, stealing its way across the land. The golden-yellow sky fading to pale overhead had provided the perfect canvas, now all it needed was the sun. Some part of Geddoe’s mind took note that the dawn came pale after a red sunset – it would be good weather today. But that mattered little as the edge of the sun’s disk peeped over the rim of the world, a burnished gold sliver that grew by the minute. Geddoe breathed a short sigh as the light fell flush on his face, forgetting about just about everything as he stared straight into the sunrise, watching the great mystery of the heavens performing their daily ritual like clockwork and just how…beautiful it was. Within moments of the sun rising fully above the jagged rocks, the dawn wind fluttered into Geddoe’s face and rustled the trees behind him, and a songbird let out one sleepy call as if questioning whether it was too early to begin singing. Turning his head, the mercenary captain checked on his sleeping companions, not at all surprised to find that they were still asleep even though the sun had risen and bathed their camp in wan golden light. It wasn’t warm enough to penetrate the night’s cold, nor bright enough to intrude beneath closed eyes of heavy sleepers. That was fine, they didn’t need to be awake for another hour or two, so Geddoe settled back into place, only wrapping his arms around his torso and tucking his hands tightly beneath his arms to ward off the chill. If not for his subtle awareness of the three figures curled beside the remnants of the fire, he could feel like he was alone, the last man on earth, watching the sun rise as it had done for ages past, and would do for ages more long after the creatures that moved about beneath its light had perished and turned to dust. All could die, even the Runebearers like him, and still the sun would rise and set, and rise again, until the Darkness could stand no more of it and ended the world much as it began. It was a daunting thought for so early in the morning. At least, Geddoe surmised to himself, regardless of his fate and the True Lightning Rune’s destiny, he didn’t plan to be around for the end. If resting in peace was at all like watching the sun rise all by oneself, he wouldn’t mind it one bit.

  


35\. – Sixth Sense

There was one thing about having a True Rune that only bearers could attest to, it wasn’t widely known in any lore or scholarly study of the subject: the ability to sense, in some way, when another True Rune was nearby. It wasn’t some great sense that drew the runebearers to each other like magnets, but somehow, in some way, they could simply “tell” that another True Rune was in close proximity. Geddoe had not realized it at the time he and the man known to the Grasslands as the Flame Champion had first met, but it might have been what drew them together, what allowed them to trust each other enough to show each other their runes and forge a bond beyond that of mere bandit comrades. Many years later, with many encounters behind him, he had finally come to believe in the sixth sense, the calling of the runes to each other that led bearers to know when another was near. He had been to the caverns of the Dragon Knights and passed close to the Dragon Rune, he had felt the tug of the Night Rune even if he hadn’t recognized it in its current form as a sword. The True Runes of the Five Powers had always had a closer affinity with each other, which was why he immediately clued in that the masked bishop was more than he claimed, and he wondered if either he or Bishop Sasarai could sense the presence of True Lightning in their midst. Perhaps, like he, they didn’t fully understand the prickling sense of apprehension mixed with familiarity that they felt whenever they brushed shoulders with the brusque mercenary captain. He had carried his rune for a very long time, he had grown to understand that the unique sensation in the back of his mind had something to do with True Runes. Could those who only had theirs a few short years understand the sense? Was it ingrained in the twins who had been born with them? Questions that surely rune scholars would die to know the answers to, if they even knew that the inner sense tying together all True Rune bearers existed.

It was during his wandering years that Geddoe first put two and two together and discovered the ability to sense another True Rune’s presence. He traveled the length and breadth of the continent from Zexen to Jowston, from the Northern Outlands to the border of Scarlet Moon where it was said another nation, now dead, once made war with them. He stayed a safe distance from Harmonia while he could, not wanting to tempt them to hunt him down for True Lightning no matter how much time had passed since the war. He spent the decades exploring, learning fighting techniques from various teachers and seeking the occasional mercenary job to support his nomadic life. In the process, he visited the caves of the Dragon Knights in Scarlet Moon and felt, after a great long time, the same nagging sense deep within that he used to feel whenever rejoining his companions after a time apart and coming back into proximity with True Water or True Fire. It didn’t take a great mental leap to tie it to the source, as he was standing before the Commander of the Dragon Knights at the time, knowing full well of the Dragon Rune. That was when he became sure of the sixth sense, and from then on, paid attention whenever True Lightning whispered in just that particular way. It was years, though, before it came up again. Geddoe had recently joined the Southern Frontier Defense Force and was prowling around a small village in the vicinity of Rockaxe on a rather minor investigative mission for Harmonia, finding it rather below his level of challenge and mostly disinteresting. At least, until his inner sense twinged completely out of nowhere. His head came up and swiveled around, instantly surveying the crowds of passersby in the village going to and fro on their own business. No one looked particularly suspicious, they all appeared to be peasants and travelers, hardly interesting. But the sense had been awakened – True Lightning felt another rune nearby. Not wanting to draw attention to himself in the meantime, the one-eyed mercenary resumed walking, but now alert to everyone he passed. If there really was another True Rune close by, likely its bearer sensed his as well – he needed to beware. Maneuvering around a young girl enthusiastically bartering over some fruit, Geddoe slunk into a gap between houses and leaned against one wall, closing his eyes so his inner sense could feel out without distraction. Expecting it might have gone past, he was surprised to feel the vibration coming closer, perhaps making another swing through the village square. Geddoe peeped out with his good eye to scan every face approaching his position, finding himself drawn to a younger man with a thick traveling cloak wrapped around him and a green bandanna tied around his head. Just as he came abreast of the mercenary’s position, he paused, doing his best not to look like he was looking warily around. Torn between going to study him closer and passing it off as not being relevant to his mission, Geddoe lingered a moment, wondering vaguely why he found the man familiar aside from sensing his Rune. Then, another person ran smack into his target and reeled back full of apologies before suddenly gasping in mingled awe and uncertainty. “I know you!” he yelped at the man Geddoe was watching. “You’re Tir McDohl! The Hero McDohl, from the war!”

McDohl waved his hands placatingly, smiling in a disarming manner. “Now, now, there’s no need to shout. Please, I don’t need a scene right now.” As it was, people were craning their necks, looking curiously their way.

The interloper quieted down but continued talking in a hurried hush, carrying on a brief conversation with the nonplussed McDohl. From his vantage point, Geddoe could not hear any of what they were saying, but he could see it wasn’t trouble, so he relaxed a little. McDohl. He’d heard about the Toran hero, there were war stories being told all over, even so far north in the Jowston City-States. It was indeed rumored that he carried a very powerful True Rune. Geddoe’s curiosity was at full strength, but unfortunately, rubbing elbows with another runebearer was contrary to his current mission, and he was on a timetable. He had to leave McDohl to whatever business he had in Jowston and hope that someday, if their respective Runes held them both to a true and unwavering course, that they would cross paths like this again. At least he knew that they would sense each other, when they did.

  


40\. – Sight

The brightly-dressed girl thumped down next to Geddoe, propping her elbow on the table and leaning close with a curious look. He ignored her as best he could, though he could sense a stupid question coming on. Sure enough, she pursed her lips and then asked, rather loudly, “So what happened to your eye?”

Geddoe continued enjoying his drink, the barest twitch of an eyebrow conveying his irritation with the blunt query. “I hurt it,” he replied curtly.

“Oh?” The girl – he sort of remembered her name was Mel – cocked her head slightly. “Hurt it how? Did it just happen?”

Geddoe deliberately took a drink and savored it on his tongue before answering. “No, it happened a long time ago.”

Mel thrust her right hand with the obnoxious puppet forward, almost into his face. “I think he’s hiding something!” she said demandingly in a rougher voice, presumably speaking for Branky as she flopped the puppet’s mouth. “Don’t believe him Mel! Get the truth!” She then drew back and stared aghast at the puppet. “Branky!” she cried in her normal voice. “That’s rude! You don’t accuse people of hiding things like that…”

“Excuse me,” Geddoe said gruffly, rising from his seat and gulping down the rest of his beer so he could escape. The exterior door was closer, so he made a deliberate path as if he meant to go outside all along, stopping on the porch outside and taking a deep breath. There were few people around Budehuc who could ask that question and get anything but an evasive answer; Mel was definitely not one of them. The youngsters annoyed him to no end, and now they were starting to hang out in the tavern because of the acting director and the plays he was staging there. It was getting so a man could hardly have a drink in peace anymore. Setting his hands on his hips, Geddoe decided to give himself a few minutes before deciding where to go or what to do with himself. There were possibilities around nearly every corner of the castle, but he was starting to feel like withdrawing into solitude and eschewing them all.

The creak of the door behind him announced that someone else had slipped outside, so he stepped closer to the wall to let them pass. But whoever it was didn’t, and after a moment, a gentle, masculine voice wondered, “So, what did happen?”

Geddoe glanced over his shoulder, having to turn his head completely to see it was the dragon knight, Futch, who had snuck up on his blind side. Fortunately, he had great respect for the Dragon Knights, since he had encountered them in the past and knew them to be fine warriors and decent people. That one had been sent to aid the True Rune bearers in this fight spoke volumes. Yet, he hadn’t gotten to know Futch well as of yet. “Does it matter?” he answered cryptically.

Futch shrugged. “Probably not. But that doesn’t stop some people from being curious about it, even if it isn’t any of their business.” He stepped up alongside Geddoe, though he gazed out at the courtyard beyond them bathed in late-day sunshine. He was nearly as tall and just as strapping as the mercenary captain, with his muscled arms folded over his chest. “I can understand your position. Sometimes, there are things we go through in our lives that don’t make for good conversation, but others might like to know about us anyway.”

Geddoe gathered from his tone of voice that he was speaking of something he, too, didn’t like to talk about, and turned slightly toward him. “The short answer? I lost it in battle. A soldier put it out.”

Futch met his gaze and then nodded. “That’s all anyone needs to know,” he conceded. After a moment’s pause, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind my asking, Sir Geddoe…was it difficult to learn to fight again with only one eye?”

The captain took another deep breath before speaking, silently grateful for the respectful way Futch chose to ask. “A bit,” he replied humbly. “You lose a lot of depth perception, it takes time to adjust to walking and reaching for things first. It took a couple of months at least, just to retrain myself to fight.” His voice quieted a little. “Even longer to get back to where I was before I was injured, and to get used to having a blind side.”

“I can’t imagine having to start from scratch like that,” Futch said in awe. “You’ve overcome quite a few obstacles in your time. I’ve watched you sparring, and one would never know that you couldn’t see on that side.”

“I’m used to it,” Geddoe murmured. “I hardly notice anymore. I don’t think I remember what it’s like _not_ to be one-eyed.”

“Then, it doesn’t bother you?”

Geddoe shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“I see.” Futch blinked at him, and then smiled warmly. “Forgive me if the questions are too personal, I’ll stop if you want me to. I’m just fascinated. You have such a wise air about you, I’ll bet you probably have a great many stories to tell. And not just about your eye.”

Whiffing a slight chuckle, Geddoe stepped down off the porch and made to go take a walk around the castle courtyards. “I suppose I do. Maybe next time I’m up for a drink, I’ll tell you a few.”

Futch perked up happily. “I’ll be certain to trade a few in return. We Dragon Knights have a knack for getting into battles easily.”

“I know…” Geddoe smirked over his shoulder at the younger man. “I’ve seen them in action before. Sure, I’ll pry a few stories out of you, in exchange for telling you about my eye.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Futch quickly demurred, waving his hands. “I know as much as I need to know to satisfy my curiosity, really, I don’t need the full story.”

“If you insist.” The captain waved a gloved hand as he wandered off. “Till next time, Futch.”

  


55\. – Spirit 

“So how the hell do we get out of here?” Ace wondered, scratching the back of his head while he looked up to the height of the pillars supporting the roof of the cavern. “I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. Or how we got here…”

“That must have been you guys we could hear yammering down another tunnel,” the duck sergeant grumbled as he passed through the ranks of the 12th unit. “I was just about to go on the attack when we all got zapped here…somehow…” He looked back, then, straight to the slender young Karayan currently passed out on Geddoe’s shoulder, overwhelmed by Rune exhaustion. A suspicious look passed through his beady eyes, but he merely resumed trudging after the others who were already on their way out of the cavern.

Geddoe said nothing, trailing the rest of his unit and carrying the unconscious Hugo like a sack of wheat, undertaking that burden of his own choosing even after those among them bearing healing runes had done their best to refresh him and Chris. They could do nothing for Hugo at the moment, he had to sleep this off and wake up on his own, and Geddoe understood where none of the rest could. He knew what it was like to find yourself in possession of a True Rune, and all the consequences thereof. Yet, as he neared the door of the Flame Champion’s secret hideaway, he felt like he had forgotten something. He paused and looked back, but there was nothing obvious to be seen, other than the ancient Sindar architecture and the flickering torches on the walls. The nagging feeling wasn’t in his mind, it ran deeper. Glancing ahead at their augmented party, Geddoe noted that Nash was sticking close by Chris Lightfellow, and Hugo’s griffon was way ahead as if eager to get out of the suffocating underground passages. Only his own men were close by, so he shot out a hand and smacked Joker abruptly in the arm. “Hey. Take him,” he ordered, indicating Hugo as he began to lift the young man off his shoulder. “I need a minute.”

Joker gave him a cockeyed look, but accepted Hugo’s slight weight, cradling him in his arms. “Something the matter, captain?”

Geddoe shook his head once. “I’ll just be a minute, I promise,” he murmured so his voice wouldn’t echo in the chamber. “Go on ahead of me.”

The martial artist peered at him for another moment, but knew better than to ask Geddoe anything about this place or his past connection to it, and so simply shrugged it off and carried Hugo out to the passageway. Sana was leading them all to the way out, but Geddoe with his Rune could operate the magic himself, alone if need be. He had to linger, there was something left unfinished. Something he needed to do before he exited, in case circumstance or the war prevented him from ever coming back here.

Waiting until everyone had left the chamber and disappeared, Geddoe paced slowly back around the table to where the familiar red jacket was draped over the back of a chair. The room fell silent, but for the rustle of his clothing and creak of his leather armor as he reached to touch the jacket, his mind filling with every moment of his past in which he looked upon the man who wore it, and every feeling he had. Relief when he reappeared from a skirmish alive. Amusement when he joked. Sadness when they parted. Anger at his decisions. Caring for his friend, worry for the hero. Though he couldn’t feel the fabric through his glove, he let his fingertips caress the red fabric and the gray leather trim near the collar as he silently remembered, his eye going unfocused for a few minutes. When he blinked himself alert again, Geddoe laid his hand steadily on the back of the chair and stared at the staff resting on the table instead. Weathered, the enamel cracking, the pommel dented, it was as he remembered it at the close of battle. At last, he found his voice, though he still spoke quietly so it wouldn’t echo and disturb the peaceful room. “It looks like this is the only chance I have,” he murmured, keeping his head bowed. “That flash I saw not too long ago…that’s the last I’ll ever see of you. If you’re still here…in some form…then maybe you can hear me.”

Geddoe lifted his head, speaking more towards the ornately-carved ceiling wreathed in shadows. “This hasn’t changed anything, you know. I’m still angry with you. I would have taken up the Rune and done your work for you, but I’ve already got one. It’s someone else’s now, and I hope he picks up where you left off.” The gruffness in his voice eased. “If you can do anything to make up for abandoning us, be with him when he needs you. Hugo’s just a kid, he’s younger than you were when you took that thing up so long ago. I’ll watch over him, I’ll guide him as best I can, but your spirit is in that Rune. You’re closer to him than I am, you can make sure he listens to his own heart and not the voice of True Fire.” He lifted his hand up off the chair and gazed at it, slowly curling his fingers into a fist. “I know how difficult that struggle can be. He’s going to need help. I’m not a praying man…but I pray your spirit helps him when he needs it. The Grasslands need it again…”

There was no sound, not even the stirring of a draft, but Geddoe felt like something whispered in his ear, or maybe in his soul. He placed his right hand flat on the table, next to the staff, and fought to control a tremble. He hadn’t been mistaken, they had all seen the Flame Champion’s spirit for that heartbeat. Some wisp of him lingered in this place, the place where he lived out his years and died. Taking a deep breath, Geddoe raised his head again and looked around the small chamber. It was definitely more of a tomb than a residence. “It’s over, then,” he said softly. “The Rune has passed on. Your time is past. It’s Hugo’s time now. My time still goes on, alongside him. I’ll take care of him, you don’t have to worry about that.” He drew his hand off the table and turned around, his steps stern and heavy as he made his way toward the exit corridor. “I don’t abandon my friends.”

  


56\. – Breakfast 

The pungent scents of Caleria’s native dishes (and people) were much easier to take at night than in the morning, particularly after passing a long night of either too much drinking or not enough sleep – or both. Geddoe rarely overindulged to the point of rising with a hangover, even when the unit was just off a successful mission that deserved celebration, but even he was a little slow to crawl out of bed and face the world when it meant facing the sights, sounds, and _smells_ of Caleria. He was up with the first cries of vendors in the marketplace just outside the inn, and sat rubbing his forehead for a bit until he could find the energy to collect his clothing and get a look at what morning was serving to him. At least he’d gotten to share the room with Jacques that night – the only member of the 12th who didn’t snore, and occasionally didn’t even stay in the room, preferring outdoor spaces to inns. Sheer exhaustion from their last mission had caught up to all of them, though, and as he set about harnessing his leather armor, Geddoe noticed Jacques was passed out in the other bed, having not even gotten out of his jacket before falling asleep face-down on top of the blankets. Mildly amused, Geddoe stepped as quietly as he could to the door and let himself out, wincing a little as the door creaked rather loudly. He backed hurriedly out of the room and closed the door again, hoping he hadn’t woken his roommate, but before he could escape unnoticed, a sultry female voice behind him murmured, “And just where do you think you’re going?”

Geddoe turned to find Queen already awake herself. When they could get enough separate rooms at an inn, she always got one of her own, as the lone woman in the unit, or else she volunteered to stay in the common room as she had last night. A closed door on the other side of the suite showed that Joker and Ace were probably still snoring away themselves. Queen sat at the table in the common room, whetting a small knife, looking far more alert and casual than anyone had a right to be at that time of the morning. Geddoe gave her a blank expression in turn. “Out to look for something to eat,” he finally answered her question, keeping his voice down. “I’m starving.”

“We did get in pretty late last night,” Queen mused, finishing with the knife and stowing the whetstone. “I thought all you boys had yourselves a liquid dinner.”

“Not me,” Geddoe grunted, crossing the room to her. “I had one and went to bed.” He noticed, then, what she was really up to: preparing to slice a large melon sitting on the table. He watched as she made the first cut with expert skill, instantly splitting it into two halves which fell open on the table. The pale green flesh inside looked rather inviting and juicy, and a light aroma filled the room, washing away the thick, musty scent that was Caleria like a fresh morning breeze. It was all Geddoe could do to keep from staring longingly at the melon, though his stomach did audibly nag him about it. “Where did that come from?” he wondered to deflect suspicion away from his hunger.

Queen gave him a sideways smile as she went about cutting the melon halves into further little crescents, rind and all. “The market, where do you think?” she snorted. “Want some?”

Geddoe’s eyebrow twitched. “You’re sharing?”

“Unless you don’t like melons.”

The captain trudged over to the table and picked up a slice. “Melons are fine,” he responded aloofly, giving it an appraising sniff before taking a bite. Queen had outdone herself, slipping out probably at dawn and hitting up the vendors before they’d even gotten their best wares laid out so she could score herself the freshest fruit right off the traders’ wagons. Melons this sweet didn’t grow in Caleria, it must have come right out of the Grasslands. Outward, though, Geddoe showed no sign of his thought process or even that he was thoroughly pleased with this breakfast, he retained his calm, expressionless demeanor as he devoured the slice without a word and picked up a second.

Still smirking, Queen kicked one of the chairs from under the table. “Go on, sit down if you’re going to have breakfast with me.”

Geddoe paused, eyeing the spread of melon slices with envy and regret. Because Queen was a vegetarian by belief, this might be all she would eat today. “Are you sure?” he wondered.

“C’mon. I’ll let you have half,” she replied casually. “I can’t finish a whole melon by myself. I got some oranges and pears and a few other things, too.” She nodded toward a cloth sack sitting beneath the corner of the table, that definitely did look laden with produce.

“All right,” Geddoe relented, pulling out the chair adjacent to her and settling down. “I guess it’s better than anything else I might have found to eat.” He gingerly took another piece even while she arranged them half-and-half between the two of them. “Pretty good melon.”

Queen took a bite to test for herself, and purred happily. “Damn right,” she said when she was able to. “I pick ‘em good. And don’t you ever forget it.”

Geddoe chuckled softly. “Not likely,” he retorted before biting into a fresh slice.

  


60\. – Drink

Ace slammed his tankard hard onto the table. “You have _got_ to be kidding me!” he yelped. “You? Never!”

“I’m serious,” Geddoe said aloofly, staring into the depths of his own mug of ale. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Ace.”

“Just because _you_ can’t make it through a week without being drunk at least once doesn’t mean the captain’s the same way!” Joker shot at Ace, pointing enthusiastically across the table at him.

“At least _I_ can make it that long, you can’t even get through the _day_ sober!” Ace snapped defensively. “And I’ll take that as a challenge, Captain! By the end of the night I’ll have you so drunk you’ll be dancing on tables!”

Geddoe lifted his tankard to his lips, whiffing a slight chuckle. “You can’t afford to get me drunk. Not on our salary.”

It was a good thing Queen had already gone to bed. Returning to Caleria after a long, hot mission skulking around Tinto’s borders had put them all in the mood to unwind in a big way. For Ace and Joker, that meant going drinking, and Geddoe opted to join them. That wasn’t much of a surprise, but his response to some teasing notion of Ace’s that he had a much higher threshold of tolerance than the two of them put together was what had raised the other mercenary’s ire. No one had exactly made any kind of declaration to the effect of drinking someone else under the table…but the suggestion was somewhat implied. At least, it was to Ace. “You’re bluffing,” he scoffed at their captain. “I bet you’re no better than ol’ Joker. Okay, maaaaybe I’ll cut you a little slack for being bigger than he is,” he added, “but I bet your tolerance is just the same.”

“Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk,” Joker mused, rubbing at his chin. He was already into his third, but if there was any prospect of stretching the session to last all night, he needed to take this one more slowly. “Out with us plenty of times, out with other people too, but…drunk?”

“I bet he’s one of those drunks you can’t tell is drunk until he passes out on the floor,” Ace groused, taking a healthy sip of his beer. He was trying to keep up with Joker, so he was also on number three at the moment. “Completely coherent, right up until he keels over – BAM! Just like that.” He pounded a fist on the table to accent his statement.

“Well, one thing we know for sure – he’s not a _loud_ drunk. Like you,” Joker cackled.

“Me? _You’re_ the loud drunk. I’m the happy drunk,” Ace declared proudly.

“Guys,” Geddoe said in annoyance. “I’m sitting right here, you know.”

“So what is it, Cap’n?” Joker pressed, leaning heavily on his tankard. “What kind of drunk are you?”

“If you say giddy,” Ace muttered into his mug, “I’m going to choke on my beer.”

Geddoe raised one eyebrow in his direction, and slowly calculated the proper response. “Moody,” he said after a minute, leaving it at that as he took a small drink.

“Oh great.” Joker rolled his eyes magnificently. “Life of the party.”

“Guess that’s what we’ve got _you_ for, old man,” Ace taunted him before turning back to Geddoe. “What, so no dancing on tables? Aww, there goes my fun. I still say I can get you drunk, easy.”

“Not likely,” Geddoe mused. “I’ve been around a long time, I know how to hold my alcohol.”

Joker slapped his open palm on the table between them. “Drinking contest!” he demanded. “That’s the best way to lose track of just how much you’re drinkin’. Next thing you know, you’ll be all loosened up and there’s no turnin’ back!”

Geddoe turned his head so his one good eye could fix Joker with a droll expression. “No.”

“Shyeah, that’ll be the day,” Ace slurred over another sip of his drink. “Much as I woulda said the same thing – the only way to get him to say more than two words would be to get him drunk. I want that as much as the next guy. See Geddoe loosen up. But you’re nuts if you think he’ll ante up to a drinking contest.”

Geddoe peered at him, beginning to smile vaguely. “You’re already well in ahead of me. Both of you. You’d never keep up.”

“Now, see? _That’s_ a challenge!” Joker roared.

“No, no, he’s got a point,” Ace said, waving a hand. “I mean, what would be the point of finally getting Geddoe loosened up if we’re both passed out dead to the world when it happens? Next time,” he vowed, pointing at their captain. “We start out on equal ground. _Then_ we’ll see who’s really got the best tolerance!”

Geddoe sipped idly at his ale – his third as well, though from the way he carried himself, anyone would have thought it was his first of the night. “Define ‘next time,’” he dared. “Tomorrow? Next time we’re in Caleria? Next time we get paid?”

“Get paid!” Joker chortled. Of the three of them, he displayed his level of intoxication the most flamboyantly. “Just in case it really does take that much to get you drunk!”

Ace raised his tankard in toast. “You’re on! It’ll be a contest to end all contests!”

Joker instantly clinked his mug to Ace’s in agreement. Geddoe eyed them both, and then raised his to join them. “All right. Next time we get paid. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he added with a wry little smirk as he put the mug to his lips and drank.


	3. Chapter 3

61\. – Winter

“Son,” the weathered old man croaked over his ale, “there’s only two ways to keep yourself warm the whole winter up here.” He gestured with a crooked finger against the glass. “The bottle, and the bed.”

Geddoe narrowed his good eye slightly. He hadn’t invoked this conversation, but he felt the need to participate nonetheless. “What, don’t you have any firewood stored for the winter?” he snorted dryly.

“Can’t huddle up to the fire in the dead of night,” another man nearby remarked. “Unless you’re good at sleeping sitting up.”

“Maybe I am.” Geddoe glanced around the small tavern. The only woman to be seen was the wife of the proprietor, who was off-limits in more than one sense judging by her homely features. It occurred to him that they hadn’t seen very many women at all as they entered the town, though that wasn’t unusual for a semi-military outpost. But the handful of local mercenaries Geddoe had fallen in with swore it was a decent place to get stuck when the snows fell, and the howling winds outside seemed to warn that this would indeed be a visit of some length.

“Oh, you’ll learn soon enough,” the second man laughed, but not mockingly. “A few days, a few weeks, it doesn’t matter. Sooner or later you’ll pick one or the other as your method of staying warm all night. Maybe both,” he added with an elbow ribbing someone beside him.

“They’re all talk,” a smooth, mellifluous voice sounded in his right ear. Geddoe had to turn his head to see the speaker, one of those who had brought him here to seek shelter. Some mercenaries came and went, but Kellen had been the most stable and trustworthy. Geddoe had chosen to run with him for several months, and took his word that they would be safe in this outpost, but the idle tavern chatter had him a little uneasy. Kellen seemed to sense it, because he smiled warmly. “Jealous, I think, of us roving swordsmen when they never leave their little burg.”

“If you dislike it so much, why do you always winter here?” someone asked him.

Kellen winked sideways at his comrade. “Good beer.”

Everyone within earshot laughed amiably, and the subject diverted to the merits of alcohol. Geddoe remained quiet, sitting with his hands around his tankard and absently listening in case he picked up some important information slipping out on a loose tongue. Kellen was better at holding conversation anyway, with his breezy nature and passing familiarity with several of the townspeople. It wasn’t a terrible way to spend an evening, but Geddoe was still grateful when they were able to finally excuse themselves and return across the square to the inn. Their boots crunched and squeaked in the layer of powdery snow covering the cobblestones, and their breath steamed in the air. Kellen raised his head and regarded the sky before announcing, “The stars are so clear and sharp. It’s going to be really cold tonight.”

Geddoe looked up and had to concur; there were no clouds to trap the minimal warmth, and the stars glittered like ice crystals. “Damn cold,” he agreed. “I don’t suppose there’s a hearth in the room?”

Kellen laughed softly. “We’ll make do, somehow. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let you down, Geddoe.”

The upstairs room in the inn was something of a compromise. There was a fireplace, but it was in the parlor, separated from the beds by a wall. The innkeeper had banked the fires earlier, but theirs was down to smoldering coals and the bedroom itself was quite chilly. Geddoe put a fresh log on and did his best to stoke it, but there wouldn’t be much heat from the fire this night. He cursed under his breath. “This is why I hate winter.”

“At least we’re not still out on the trail,” Kellen reasoned, coming back in after having shrugged off his armored bits. “Not that I wouldn’t know what to do out there, but it’s much nicer having a roof and walls between me and the snow.” He shrugged casually as Geddoe glanced back to him. “We’re probably going to have to take some measures tonight, though. Nice try, but that fire’s doing us no good.”

“I know,” Geddoe sighed, pushing himself to his feet and unbuckling his heavy leather. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before.” Though, he thought as he removed the armor and draped it over a chair, it had been nearly ten years since that time he and Wyatt had saved each other from hypothermia after that shortcut through the mountains went horribly wrong…

Kellen went back into the bedroom. “I considered shoving the beds together but they’re unreasonably large. Even two thick fellows like us can fit into one.” He tossed a teasing smile over his shoulder at the gruff man who followed him in, carrying his sword to leave at the bedside. “Good thing you’re secure enough not to balk at the mere suggestion.”

“I told you, I’ve done it before,” Geddoe said blandly, leaving his sheathed blade next to Kellen’s broadsword. “It doesn’t bother me. You do what you have to do to stay warm.” He sat on the bed to remove his boots, and only then peered at his companion. “…good thing you’re not drunk.”

The handsome young man waved his hand dismissively. “Only slightly tipsy. Just enough to warm up my insides.” He grinned and wagged his finger. “I walked a straight line back here, didn’t I?”

“We’ll check those footprints in the morning,” Geddoe snorted. He had actually seen the other mercenary drunk before, and was confident that he was in clear possession of his faculties. The two busied themselves for a few minutes adding every blanket in the room to one bed, forming a thick nest, before climbing into it fully clothed and allowing themselves to burrow down beside each other. Only after the lamps were doused did Geddoe remove his gloves and tuck his right hand underneath the pillow as he curled up on his side. Kellen nestled against him with a sigh, clearly having no trouble either with the arrangement. Mercenaries who had to live on the trail knew all the survivalist tricks, including sharing body heat regardless of the gender of the others. Geddoe was more concerned about protecting the True Rune in his right hand than his reputation or masculinity, and though he could admit that Kellen was an attractive man to both sexes (he’d heard both comment, before), he trusted the man enough. At least, until a hand snaked over his waist and an arm draped itself around him. Kellen buried himself in Geddoe’s back, his face against the runebearer’s neck and his sigh warm against his earlobe. Geddoe stiffened in place, his eye widening in the darkness, as his companion snuggled right up to him without hesitation. For a long moment he contemplated his options, whether to jump up, punch Kellen, or say something, but in truth the bed was already warming up nicely and Kellen was actually shivering a little. Clearing his throat, Geddoe chose the least disturbing route. “Uh…Kel…”

The other man squirmed a little, the better to cuddle closer. “You’re so warm, Geddoe,” he murmured against the runebearer’s neck. “Are you always like this?”

The flush that rose in Geddoe’s cheeks was certainly not typical. “Kellen, what the hell are you doing?” he asked, a little more firmly.

There was a long silence, during which Geddoe couldn’t tell if Kellen was going to respond or had fallen asleep. When he did speak, his voice was low and serious. “If you don’t want to, then tell me and I’ll stop. But I’ve been attracted to you since the day we met, Geddoe. I finally feel comfortable enough to let you know.”

The deep-toned murmur near his ear and the warm breath on his neck were giving Geddoe alternating shivers of fear and desire. It was easier to handle the struggle while lying faced away. “I don’t have any feelings for you, Kellen,” he said bluntly.

“I didn’t say you had to.” The hand on Geddoe’s chest slid upward a little, tugging on the fabric of his shirt. “I’d be content with one night of foolish abandon, if it meant you weren’t going to toss me aside for overstepping my bounds.”

Geddoe heaved a sigh that expanded his broad chest. What a thing to have to deal with when all he wanted was sleep. “How do I know you’re not going to turn into a clingy bastard if I do?”

Kellen’s embrace tightened. “You’re…interested?” he asked in a tone implying desperate hope.

“I don’t know.” Geddoe remained lying on his side facing away from his comrade, making no move to disengage the hand clutching him. “Not tonight. Not out of an excuse to stay warm or anything.” He stopped there, leaving it open to decide later if another night would be better, or not at all. Instead, he tacked on a murmured, “I didn’t realize…”

“That I enjoy the company of other men? Only sometimes,” Kellen chuckled sadly, sagging against the other mercenary. “They have to really win me over, though. I trust you with my life, Geddoe, we make a good team. I think we’d be good together in other ways, too…” He nestled down even further, squeezing Geddoe around the middle. “…but if you’ll at least let me take advantage of this winter cold, I think I’d be happy with that.”

Geddoe mulled it over for a bit, and then found the hand on his chest beneath the blankets and patted it. “Fine, I won’t shove you off the other side of the bed for this. But I make no promises.” He took the happy purr behind him as agreement and closed his eye, trying to sleep before he could ask himself where the appeal was coming from. Then again, given his options in this forsaken land, he could do a lot worse than Kellen.

  


65\. – Passing

Geddoe knew, long before the captains returned from the Great Hollow, long before the Karayans came through the castle gates in a train with downcast faces, long before Lady Chris walked up to him, held his gaze for only a moment, and then passed him, unable to tell him now that she knew who he really was. Some part of him knew – the part that was intimately connected with the part now contained within her, the daughter of his best friend. He may not have known how, why, or with what result, but Geddoe knew that Wyatt was dead. It was Hugo who finally came to him and told him, confirming his fears and solidifying the lump in the pit of his stomach. There wasn’t even anything left of him to pass to his loved ones, the fading of his body had taken every last artifact except those he might have kept in a small pack of belongings scavenged from the burned-out hulks of the Karaya village. Hugo offered, at a word from Luce, anything Geddoe might want, but the mercenary captain refused. The Karayan things belonging to Jimba ought to go to his adoptive mother, and to Hugo and Lucia, while anything he was still hoarding from his life as Wyatt Lightfellow needed to go to Chris. And so, Geddoe pushed them all away and retreated to the room on the ship where his team made their headquarters, and he his bed. Joker read the look on his face accurately and grabbed Ace, demanding that they go to the tavern right now, brooking no argument. Queen tried to ask him what was wrong, but he simply asked, in a low, savage growl that surprised even himself, that she go away and leave him alone. Jacques had been with Hugo, so he knew, and he knew better than to even come near the unit’s quarters now. Once the door closed, Geddoe slumped against the table with both hands palms-flat down upon it, supporting himself. Accepting the news was the easy part. Figuring out what it meant to him…what it felt like to him…was going to be rough.

After a long moment of silence, Geddoe pushed himself up and went to the leather pack hanging off the back of another chair, where he kept everything that belonged to him. It seemed rather sad, now that he looked at it, that a life as long as his should fit in such a small bag, smaller even than Wyatt’s. Down in the bottom, beneath bottles of medicine, a thunder amulet he never used, and spare items of clothing, he found what he needed: another leather pouch, containing the one artifact of Wyatt’s life that mattered to Geddoe. They had given each other things to remember by long ago, when the three Fire Bringer had parted ways, never to truly reunite again, and Geddoe had sentimentally carried this small piece of Wyatt with him since. He sat down on the edge of the bed in the corner and unwrapped the parcel, taking out a silver ring with a blue stone. After a moment of staring at it, ensuring himself that it was as shiny and polished as the day it was gifted, he took off his gloves and cradled the ring in the palm of his right hand. It wasn’t a special ring with any sort of magic powers, water-related or otherwise, just a ring Wyatt had worn as a young man when they all ran together, probably stolen from some Harmonian nobleman they waylaid. But after gracing Wyatt’s finger for so many years, it was, honestly, the best reminder of him Geddoe could carry while they were apart. At least, unlike the third member of their legendary force, Geddoe and Wyatt had visited on and off in the intervening fifty years, catching up like old friends ought to and then returning to their respective lives of hiding. Even though they disagreed on certain things, certain philosophies regarding their runes, Geddoe still valued his friendship with Wyatt, and had looked forward to this war being their chance to reunite, to fight beside each other again, like old times. But now…old times had been cut short.

Geddoe silently sat there, fingering the ring resting in his palm, remembering the sorts of things they had done back in the days when this was Wyatt’s. It helped him to remember Wyatt as he was, as he always would be, without the Karayan disguise, though his wide grin and robust laugh hadn’t changed at all. He held up the ring in his thick, gnarled fingers, turning it over, old conversations playing through his mind the whole time he stared at it, at its eternal circle, at the stone the same shade of blue as Wyatt’s eyes. That was why he liked it in the first place, Geddoe suddenly remembered. It matched his eyes. They had a good laugh over that, teasing him about it, not just the day he started wearing it, but whenever they needed a chuckle, whenever something reminded them of it…and again on the night by the bonfire when Wyatt pressed it into Geddoe’s hand, the metal still warm from his own. It was the key needed to unlock grief; Geddoe clenched his fist around the ring, squeezing his good eye shut as emotions shivered up his back and made his next breath shudder. It was no use, though, everything spilled out of him then. Wyatt was dead, and now all he had left was the memory of his best friend, he would never get to swing by Karaya or Zexen and visit him, ever again. Geddoe pressed the fist containing the ring against his forehead as he crumbled, his shoulders shaking and then heaving as silent sobs overcame him. There was no one around to see, no one would ever know his private grief, not if he had any control over it. He bent low, clutching the ring in his fist to his chest, and covered his eye with his hand as if it could possibly prevent the tears from running down his weathered cheek. They slid down his hand into his sleeve and dripped onto his knee, but he made no effort to stop them, letting them come, offering them as his last tribute to the passing of his friend. Perhaps it was the finality of it, the realization that despite their immortality, their unnaturally lengthened lives, they weren’t invincible, that Geddoe had been left lost, adrift, and bereft when he least expected it. He had always felt as though he and Wyatt would go forever on and on, crossing paths now and then but otherwise both still alive, somewhere. Now, it would not be so, and it shook Geddoe to his core. He sat there on the corner of the bed, head in hand, weeping softly, until well after the sun sank low and left the room in darkness. Come daybreak, no one would ever know that he had grieved at all.

  


66\. – Rain

Many in the Grasslands’ army had come to loathe the canvas tents for a multitude of reasons, the longer they had to use them for temporary shelter out on the battlefield. They tended to be vulnerable to every mood swing of the weather, and now that the year was heading into winter – the rainy season, out on the plains – they were even less suitable for housing the mobile army. Wind sliced right through the gaps in the walls, or else pulled the stakes out of the softened earth, and water leaked through any spot in the woven fabric that hadn’t been water-proofed with a coat of pitch. At least, it was some consolation that the Harmonian army camped out closer to the mountains was having the same rough time with the same equipment. The leaders of the Fire Bringer were encamped with their troops on the front lines, forming a barrier to keep the invaders off while the civilians of several clans retreated to find winter shelter somewhere safe. Once their people were taken care of, the Fire Bringer would withdraw to join them, never turning their backs on the enemy no matter how miserable the weather was making them.

It was hard to tell where one storm ended and the next began, for the clouds remained thick and low in between bouts of rain. Some in the camp took advantage of the lull to try and find leaks in their tents and patch them before the next deluge, while others scurried about collecting and distributing fuel for fires to keep themselves warm and their clothing dry. The Flame Champion and his men had it no better, as True Runes didn’t stop nature from dumping on their tents and making for wet, miserable nights with little sleep. At least there wasn’t any battle to be joined, either, only a position to be maintained and reconnaissance to be monitored. It left the commanders with a little time to dry out their socks, collect their thoughts, and privately mutter to each other about how nice it would be to reach someplace with actual roofs over their heads to make their headquarters for the winter months. Upon making his usual rounds, Geddoe withdrew from the ranks of basic fighters and disappeared into the tent he and the other two rune bearers shared, rubbing at his right temple. He could feel the growing ache already, and dreaded how much worse it would get. The bigger the blow, the more his head hurt, and the frequency of the rainstorms on the plains was making it obvious to those who knew him the best. He was finally to the point where he felt comfortable on the battlefield again, his sword was as deadly accurate as it had been when he had two eyes, and he’d gotten used to wearing the eyepatch. But the headaches…he could really do without them. Feeling another one coming on sent Geddoe into retreat, into the innermost section of the tent where he could sit down in the dim darkness and close his good eye and brood where no one else could see him. They’d stopped staring at his eyepatch or shrinking out of his way, but the less attention Geddoe called to his missing eye, the better, he figured.

He sat down on his cot with a heavy sigh and dropped his head into his hands, using his thumbs to knead his forehead. It wasn’t going to do any good, the headache was going to come on no matter what, but he tried out of instinct. As long as he didn’t light a lamp, the interior of the tent remained mostly dim thanks to the heavy clouds outside, a state he preferred in order to reduce the strain on his good eye. Any little thing he could do to minimize the intensity of the headache, really. A gust of wind rippled the canvas, bringing with it the noise of camp for just a moment, and then the loud bark of Wyatt’s hearty laugh just outside. Geddoe sighed to himself, realizing that if anyone would come searching for him, it would be his best friend. At least there was a legitimate reason for his moodiness, one that could be explained by the weather. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable interruption, though he remained sitting with his head down and only listened for the heavy tread of Wyatt’s boots. It didn’t take long before the brawny, blond-headed figure blustered through the canvas flap separating the two sections of the commanders’ tent, and Wyatt happily crowed, “Ah, Geddoe, there you are! I wondered where you’d gotten off to. Hey…” He noted his friend’s posture and failure to lift his head. “…everything all right?”

“Just another headache,” Geddoe muttered under his breath, shifting so that the right side of his face rested fully in his palm.

“Ohh…” Wyatt came over and sat on the adjoining cot, facing him. “Again? Man, they just won’t leave you alone. Do you think it might be…?”

“It’s the rain,” Geddoe said flatly, keeping his good eye closed. “These headaches come on just before it rains. That’s all.”

Wyatt winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I’ve heard of that kind of thing happening. Old soldiers talk about it all the time – injuries aching when the weather changes.” He reached and set a hand heavily on Geddoe’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s just because it’s still kind of raw. Maybe it’ll get better as time goes on.”

“That doesn’t help me right now,” Geddoe growled. He shook his head and sat up a little, if only to remove his gloves to make it easier to rub his forehead. The ache actually spread through the center of his missing eye, all around the socket and back into his head, but he could only assuage that which he could touch.

Wyatt brushed back the sheaf of dark hair that fell over Geddoe’s eyepatch and rested his hand against the man’s brow, gauging the temperature of his skin. “You know if there was anything I could do, I would,” he said kindly. “I don’t think there’s much the True Water Rune can do for a headache, though.”

“Yeah, I know.” Geddoe didn’t mind the soothing touch, for Wyatt’s hand was slightly cooler against his fevered brow. At that point, both of them glanced up as the patter of raindrops began to sound on the roof of the tent over their heads. “See?” Geddoe grumbled. “I told you.”

“Guess you’re going to be our new weather mage,” Wyatt teased him, withdrawing and standing up. “That means I’d better go tie things down, if we’re in for another round. You just sit here and rest your eyes…eye.” He winced as he caught himself too late.

Geddoe dropped his head back into his hands, not needing his eyes to tell him a thing about the rain. It washed over the camp within seconds, growing from a light patter of drops into a constant roar of falling water, accented by the splash of runoff draining from the eaves of the tents and forming noisy puddles in the trenches dug around them. All he knew was the dull ache behind his right eye, throbbing into his temple and even the back of his neck. He could only hope that, as time went on, as his rune-blessed life stretched into years and decades, that the scar tissue would cease to do this every time it rained. It would turn into a very long life indeed if it didn’t.

  


68\. – Lightning

Cool blue moonlight filtered through the dusty windows of the tavern, washing away the darkness for the one who had decided to remain on watch. Geddoe stood where he had been when, a minute before, he had allowed True Lightning to flex its power for the first time in fifty years. With a creak and a click Joker had left and closed the tavern door behind him, giving his captain the privacy in which to mull over his deepest thoughts. But Geddoe had wrestled with those for long enough, he was done. His mind turned to remembrance instead, as he stood gazing down at his right hand where the Rune lay, still hidden beneath his glove. He knew he didn’t explain nearly enough about his identity and that Rune to his teammate, but Joker was smart enough to let it be for now. Explanations could come later, when the opportunity was right.

He had known, almost from the moment the words “Fire Bringer” came out of Jimba’s mouth, that it was time. The fifty year truce was up, there was nothing to stop Harmonia from resuming its foray into the Grasslands except the re-emergence of the True Runes which had been hidden. His old friend seemed reluctant to unseal True Water unless he had to, but Geddoe was ready. True Lightning had been held back deliberately for far too long, some nights it practically screamed to be unleashed. There was no reason for Geddoe to reserve it any longer, even if he didn’t step out and declare his existence so that all his foes could come down on him. It seemed sort of anti-climactic, to be standing there in run-down Budehuc, with the only chance to use it being against some half-rate Zexen marshals threatening the simple, untrained folk trying to defend the place and their right to freedom. Being as Geddoe had been the one, fifty years ago, to secure the treaty to make Budehuc a free zone, he had more than a vested interest in preserving it – but he couldn’t let anyone else know that. Not yet. All he could do was breathe a long sigh in the darkness, tasting the bitter tang of dust in the air, and be content knowing that his real mission, his destiny, began here with the revealing of his Rune.

Pacing slowly back to the chair where he’d been sitting, Geddoe listened to the silence and contented himself thinking that perhaps keeping watch wasn’t as necessary for the protection of the castle as it was the peace of his own mind. Even now, the voice of True Lightning in his soul had changed its timbre from what he had been used to for so long. It seemed to sense that he was ready to use it again, and felt like quiet satisfaction now. He was accustomed to it and its changeable moods, the way it tingled whenever there was a thunderstorm, the subtle mental prod it tried to give him now and again. He knew before ever being taught about the nature of True Runes, not to let its will supercede his own. Geddoe was too strong-willed a man in the first place, he resented anyone or anything trying to impose itself on him, so resisting the Rune was not as torturous a burden as some made it out to be. Yet, there were days when he questioned the sanity of ever taking up a True Rune in the first place.

It wasn’t as though he intended to do it. The plan had only been to raid the temple and take the crystal containing True Lightning, either to hoard indefinitely as a very visible gesture toward Harmonia, or to hold for ransom. But the caliber of soldiers in pursuit turned a triumphant raid into a desperate dash for freedom, and Geddoe fled with the Rune orb clutched close to his chest, determined not to let them get it back. He could still remember the exact moment when he faced the choice, accept the Rune or let it fall back into Harmonian hands, and he held out his right hand to it without even thinking. He didn’t know why it released, or how, but in time he came to understand that the Rune had most certainly chosen him. He never aspired for power, he never intended to take it in order to use it. Letting it attach itself to him seemed like the only choice he had at the time, even if it wasn’t the smartest thing to do. It had brought him an extended lifetime of hardship and suffering, but in the end, Geddoe still believed that it was right to bear it. Being locked away inside Harmonia to wait for the rest to be collected wasn’t any good for True Lightning any more than it was for the rest of the world. Lightning is a rogue element, he often told people. It needed to be free. The Five Powers could be destructive, yes, but they were also beneficent. Water was life, Fire warmed and cooked, Earth protected and grew food, Wind cooled and steered ships, Lightning awoke life in all living things. Sealing and guarding them because they could also destroy made no sense to him, moreso when he carried True Lightning and understood its yearning for freedom. For, in essence, that had always been Geddoe’s true yearning, in some form or another. Perhaps that was why the Rune chose him. He hoped, as he sat in the tavern fifty years after the truce, almost eighty years after first taking up the True source of Lightning, that he’d been a good vessel even if he had to hide it for all that time. 

  


69\. – Thunder

The crash of the great beast’s thick legs made the whole ground shake and the small group of men stagger to keep their feet, though more than one was starting to think that they’d be better off running. Unfortunately, it stood in the way of their mission, and possibly the Grasslands’ fate, if they didn’t get to the mountain pass in time. At the head of the group stood their Lightning General, the one-eyed, dark-clad man who carried the fame of being a True Rune-bearer alongside the other Fire Bringer. Geddoe lifted his head and had to crane his neck as the mountain-monster emerged fully from the trees, all three heads of it rearing high over the mere men who had disturbed it. Though he was rather surprised and worried by the monster’s appearance and the delay it was about to cause them, Geddoe didn’t show it on his face. He maintained his grim, stoic frown even as he looked way up at three heads full of fangs and roars of extreme fury. At least five of his men didn’t flee and cower back in the trees, they gathered around him with urgent, panicked glances at each other. “What are we going to do, Captain?” one asked Geddoe. “We have to get to the pass, we don’t have time for a lengthy fight!”

“I know,” Geddoe said gruffly, throwing a hand out to back the men on his left away from the snapping jaws of one of the beast’s heads. “We keep our heads, and do this fast. What runes can we waste on this thing? Anyone have any extra scrolls?”

The others arranged themselves into a fighting formation and came up with a quick strategy under their leader’s guidance, to have one use a Shield rune spell to give them all a berzerker’s energy while others attacked or used offensive runes that would not require too much of their strength. They were supposed to be heading into a real battle, and needed every last elemental rune, every Kindness Drop, every vial of medicine and bandage in their reserve supplies for when they met the Harmonians. Yet, the creature was much stronger than any of them banked on, knocking out two men in quick order and wounding or exhausting the rest with its multiple attacks. One of those standing was about to use a valuable Water rune spell to revive them, but Geddoe waved him off. There was only one thing he could do to shorten this battle and get them where they needed to go, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy left to do it. He was already wilting himself, panting hard, having taken a fair number of hits. It didn’t matter, though – the battle waiting for them at the top of the pass didn’t matter if they were all killed here in the valley by this rabid monster. He had to do it, disregarding the cost. True Lightning had not been figured into the battle strategy except as an emergency measure, so he was free to use it now if he could muster the strength to cast the spell. Even if he could…he didn’t know if it would be enough. 

One of his men grabbed the shoulder of his leather armor. “Captain,” he panted, “you have to use It. It’s our only chance.”

Geddoe was still staring up at the monster, which had reeled back to prepare itself for another charge. “I’m not fast enough,” he grumbled in response. “I want to try casting the top-level spell, but I don’t think I can get it off before that thing hits me.”

The fighter suddenly burst past him, jostling him. “Leave it to me!”

“Wait!” Geddoe tried to grab him and hold him back, but it was too late. The man let out a daring roar and charged the beast, getting and holding its attention so it would target him instead of the one casting a rune-spell. Geddoe cursed, but he couldn’t delay by protesting, he had to start casting. He shifted his sword into his left hand and raised his right fist, the words of an ancient language tumbling off his lips as if by instinct. True Runes had their own way of working, and often, the bearer didn’t know how or by what means they did, they were only the vessel, the conduit, able to use the Rune’s power simply by desiring to do so. True Lightning tingled in his hand, feeding off his own energy in order to summon the most powerful spell in its arsenal to unleash now. Geddoe could feel it building, knew it would be ready, and poured his will into allowing it to come, even though he had never cast this particular spell before. It was only by his own inner instinct and the Rune’s whispering voice that he knew he had the ability to do it. Then, right in his line of sight, the monster’s leftmost head swung low and teeth slashed into the arm of the man who had thrown himself into the fray. Disturbed and enraged, Geddoe fed the last of his energy into True Lightning, raising his hand high and bellowing a roar as the spell discharged like a bolt from a thunderstorm. But it wasn’t just any old thunderclap of lightning magic this time; for a moment the skies seemed to darken, though only the spell-caster could see the full effect of what he had done. Black dragons materialized as if from the spirit world, swirling around the three-headed creature, and blasted through it with a shockwave that knocked Geddoe back stumbling. He went to his knees, but his eye remained trained on the startling effects of the Hammer of Raijin spell. The power of the True Rune tore the attacking monster to shreds, obliterating it from existence on the spot and leaving only a cluster of wounded, gasping men blinking at the sense of magic that had just exploded around them with a peal like thunder. All of them were safe, if a bit torn up, and the lightning magic did not touch a single one of them. Geddoe was still reeling from the use of his Rune, so someone else ran up and started barking out orders to bring up runes and medicines to care for the wounded so they could get back on track to meet the other branches of the Fire Bringer army at the pass.

Someone came up beside their leader and offered a hand to help him up. “You all right, Geddoe?”

He waved a hand to dismiss the concern, though he didn’t pass up the helping hand. “Just get everyone taken care of. I’ll be fine. Just need a minute to rest.” He stood aside while the rear unit came among them to patch up the wounded, gazing absently down at his right hand. That spell was amazing, but he had to be careful using it. Too much power like that all at once could get out of hand, he could sense that it had the power to overcome him if he was too eager to use it. It would have to be a reserve spell, something only to be used when there was no other way. At least it was exhausted now, and wouldn’t be able to be used again until after he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. His sword, not his Rune, was what they needed in the battle now.

  


70\. – Storm

The man known as Jimba trudged hastily across the grassy plain, glancing now and then to the horizon as if trying to gauge whether he could beat the oncoming weather. He couldn’t fathom what in the world his old friend was doing out here at a time like this, but he could guess. The stoic mercenary had an affinity with lightning, after all. It took a few minutes, but then Jimba spotted him, tall head against the sky, standing on a grassy ridge near a gnarled old tree that had taken the brunt of more than one grasslands storm. “Geddoe,” he called out from a few yards away, quickening his blustery pace. “What the hell? Are you looking to get struck or something?”

Geddoe stood with his face into the wind, letting it blow his long hair back in short, sharp gusts as the leading edge of the storm began to make its push across the plains. As such, he didn’t hear Jimba’s approach until the voice called to him, and even then, he waited until his oldest friend came alongside him before answering. “I won’t get struck by lightning,” he murmured in his usual calm, confident purr. A peal of thunder rolled across the open ground, then, and Geddoe lifted his right hand, palm outward, as if to catch the sound with his Rune hand. “Trust me,” he added.

Jimba huffed and folded his arms, shrinking a little closer to Geddoe as if to put himself under an unseen umbrella of protection. “You’re crazy,” he declared. “Standing out here in the middle of a storm. You’ve gotten eccentric in your old age, pal.”

Geddoe continued to gaze at the back of his hand – though his thick glove hid the True Lightning Rune from view – and the glimpses of velvet-blue storm clouds from between his fingers. “You know I’ve always had a thing for thunderstorms,” he said, the slightest hint of a smile in his deep voice.

“A ‘thing’ can be safely indulged from behind four walls and a roof,” Jimba retorted, beginning to smirk himself.

Geddoe lowered his hand to his side and glanced at the man beside him, his good eye narrowing in amusement. “Are you really that concerned about my safety? Gee, Wyatt, I’m touched.”

Jimba snorted. “Okay, maybe I was, when Lucia said she saw you head out,” he admitted, “but now that I see you out here – in your element – eh…” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You know when to come in from the rain.”

“It isn’t raining yet.” And it wasn’t. The massive plains thunderstorm rumbling its way toward the Karaya village was all bluster so far, inky base masked by the torn outriggers of the gust front that was just blowing over, bringing with it the initial blast of wind that hissed in the long grass and made even Geddoe wince a little as it blew straight in his face. Thunder growled almost constantly, one rolling on top of the next, though so far the actual lightning appeared to be still far away at the core of the storm. Not a single bolt had struck anywhere near the village nor the ridge upon which Geddoe stood to watch it come in. The low, black shelf of the center of the storm was still a distance off, looking violent and frightening, though the clouds roiling in overhead were still light-gray, tattered and chaotic as shifting winds drew them this way and that. Geddoe’s dark figure stood like a defiant pillar against this backdrop, his head high and gaze directed deep into the heart of the storm where graceful bolts of lightning strobed from cloud to ground. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Geddoe murmured, half to himself.

“I guess,” Jimba responded, though he was rather indifferent to the aesthetics. He turned his head to regard the face of his companion, seeing a sort of peace in his rugged features that he usually didn’t show. Peace was something neither of them ever really truly had, not when they were constantly looking over their shoulders. Seeing it on Geddoe’s face made Jimba smile to himself. “When was the last time you stared into the face of a good old Grasslands thunderstorm?”

The answer was slow in coming, though Geddoe’s face showed no sign of the gears of thought whirling in his head, searching his memory. “A while,” he answered with a rueful down-note. “Probably well before you came back here.”

Jimba looked toward the storm himself, feeling the first spatters of wind-driven rain against his cheeks. He hadn’t been living as a Karayan for very long, but he knew what Geddoe was suggesting. The gruff mercenary had been away from the Grasslands as long as he had, and now they were finally back together, even if it was a mere crossing of paths that would be over when Geddoe moved on in a couple of days. Wyatt, now Jimba, had probably seen far more thunderstorms since coming to Karaya than his old friend, who had the greater appreciation for them. “I suppose it is kind of beautiful, in a way,” Jimba mused, even as the skies grew darker above and a crack of thunder throbbed around them. “Three elements combined, eh? Including our two.”

Geddoe visibly breathed a sigh that heaved his shoulders. “You can go on back to the village if you don’t want to be rained on,” he murmured. “I’m going to stay here a little bit longer.”

“Just remember, you’re not a lightning god,” Jimba teased him, smacking him in the shoulder as he turned. “You’re probably the tallest thing on the plains right now. Don’t tempt fate.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Geddoe said absently, his attention still on the threatening skies. A few big, wet drops of rain thumped on his face and shoulders, but as long as he was breathing in the charged wind, gazing into the soul of lightning, he had no intention of walking away.

  


71\. – Broken 

The thing that broke through Geddoe’s sleep first – powerfully, too – was not the light of day, or the sounds of other battle-wounded being frantically attended, it was the pain. The horrid, throbbing pain across the right side of his face, practically piercing his skull. It was enough to prevent him from sleeping through everything else, as much as he needed the rest in order to heal. The sensation of attempting to open an eye that wasn’t there anymore made him keep both eyes desperately closed, protecting his taxed left eye from the light, but sounds still filtered through the haze and made the throbbing headache worse – the screams of the wounded, the hasty chatter of medics, and the cries of civilians who had just discovered the maiming or death of their loved ones. Geddoe laid still, wishing for anything, even unconsciousness, to come down on him and save him from having to deal with any of it, but it wouldn’t come. At last, he had no choice but to crack open his good eye and look around, to find a medic or a friend, anyone, who could help him get away from that place, or escape the pain, somehow. He couldn’t stop the instinct that made both eyes usually open, but the instant searing pain, and the sickening feeling of tightness, on the right made him flinch and hiss and finally squint his left eye open just enough to examine his surroundings.

He was still lying on a cot in the stone room where he had been brought after the battle was over, just off to the side of the main infirmary where the wounded were being tended. At least, that way, there was no natural light to tell him what time of day it was, and only one lamp had been left burning across the room. The dim light was still harsh, but it didn’t take long to adjust to, allowing Geddoe to quickly scan the room and discover that he was alone. At least, for that moment; no sooner had he reached the conclusion and sighed over it when someone’s broad-shouldered figure darkened the open doorway. Wyatt ducked into the room quickly, his eyes widening briefly when he saw his friend awake. “Hey, Geddoe,” he greeted him, somewhat cautiously. “How’re you doing?”

Geddoe’s one open eye traveled weakly from his friend’s face to the low ceiling of the stone room. “Don’t we have any doctors around here?” he complained, his voice gruff and strained. “My head is killing me.”

“They’re all kind of tied up right now,” Wyatt replied with a woeful wince. “I didn’t think you’d be awake so early.”

“I can’t sleep,” Geddoe growled. “Hurts too much.” He lifted his hand and gingerly placed it over the right side of his face, testing to see exactly how much of it was covered with bandages. He had been fully awake for the whole thing – being half-carried back to Chisha by Wyatt while their champion went to rally the forces against the retreating Harmonian raiders, having to sit while medics and water mages tried to clean the wound and discover the extent of the damage, while they wrapped his eye and tried to soothe him and gave him some medicine to dull the pain so he could sleep. How long ago that was, he couldn’t tell, not in the windowless underground rooms of Chisha. Geddoe briefly thought that he ought to be grateful that they moved him to a private room, on account of his high-ranking status in the Fire Bringer, but it had no door to close him away from the chaos, and was really nothing more than a small storeroom beneath the supply shop. When Wyatt came closer, the dim lamplight gleaming on the harness of his strapping baldric and the hilt of his sword, Geddoe tried to squint up at him. “What’s the damage?”

Wyatt sighed heavily and took a seat on a barrel next to the cot. “There wasn’t anything I could do,” he murmured sadly. “Even with the True Water Rune, I can’t replace an eye that’s been cut out. I sealed up the wound, though, the scar shouldn’t be too huge, but…”

“No,” Geddoe interrupted. “I meant the battle. I already know I’m never going to see out of that eye again,” he said darkly, barely above a whisper. “There’s nothing I can do about that. I want to know about the battle. Did we succeed?”

Wyatt nodded slightly. “Yeah, we got ‘em all. Took some work, but not a single one of those bastards is left to report back to the Harmonian main army.” He rubbed his chin in a frustrated gesture. “We took heavy losses in the woods, though. Who would have known those great, lumbering brutes in all that armor could move as well as us in the brush?”

“Who would have known they’d be skilled enough to get in close and take my eye?” Geddoe added, trying to sound flippant about it but failing utterly. He knew Wyatt understood his state of mind when his friend’s hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed it in consolation. Something else occurred to him, then, and he started to ask, “Where is…?”

“Right here.” Another figure stepped into the doorway, slighter than either of the other two but no less commanding in its presence. Though he was known across the Grasslands as their champion, now, he was still just one of three close friends, all of whom cared about each other enough to be there when one was fallen. He came in, his red coat dusty and flecked with someone else’s blood, his youthful face registering worry and pain as he beheld Geddoe. “How are you feeling?”

As much as he wanted to sit up and say he was fine, Geddoe wilted against the cot and closed his good eye. “I told Wyatt…it hurts so much I can’t sleep. I don’t want to be in here,” he went on grumbling, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. “Around all these people. I’ve only lost an eye, there are others far worse off. I should be out there instead…”

“No, Geddoe.” Their friend came in closer, standing just behind Wyatt’s shoulder. His dark eyes were full of turmoil. “You’re hurt. You need to rest. It isn’t just an eye…you’re going to need time to recover from this. You may have to relearn how to fight, now.” He, too, sighed with the heaviness of his heart. “I’m sorry, Geddoe. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time…”

“It isn’t your fault,” Geddoe muttered, reaching to touch the bandages stretched across his forehead, wondering if the cut went up into his eyebrow. “It wouldn’t have mattered if our entire army was there. It was just one lucky soldier having a good day, and my slip. I should be glad that all he took was my eye, not my arm or my life for that matter.”

“I got him, though,” Wyatt put in, looking up at the third man. “I may have been a second too late myself, but I took the bastard down.”

“Even so…” The young champion sighed again. “Anything I can do for you, Geddoe, let me know. Please. I want you to be comfortable…I want you to get better, so you can be back out there where you want to be.”

“Just get me a doctor with some painkillers,” Geddoe rasped, “and then get me back to my own bed. I can’t stand being in here.”

“You’ve got it,” he nodded, turning to instantly fulfill his comrade’s requests.

Wyatt waited until the third rune bearer had left before speaking again. “He’s right, you know,” he warned. “Losing an eye isn’t like taking a blow. You’ll be blind on that side, you’ll have to learn a new way of handling your sword.”

“I can do it,” Geddoe said determinedly, his face set in a grim frown. “I have to. I won’t leave you two to face this war alone.” He turned his good eye on his companion. “I can’t let this break me. I don’t care how difficult it may be, I belong with you two on the front lines.”

“Ah, you stubborn old man,” Wyatt said with a faint chuckle, reaching to brush Geddoe’s unruly dark hair back from his brow. The right side of his face was wrapped snugly in bandages, but they wouldn’t know until the wound itself healed just what it would look like. “I have no doubt that you can overcome this. But don’t rush it. You’re still human, you need the time to heal.” He patted Geddoe’s shoulder again. “I promise I’ll spar with you every day until you can fight just as well as any man with two eyes, if you’ll promise me you’ll let it take as long as it needs.”

Geddoe closed his eye again, turning his head slightly away. “I suppose I have no choice, really. I’ve lost an eye, but I’m not dead. I have to go on.”

“That’s right.” Wyatt glanced up as the Flame Champion returned with a doctor carrying a vial of medicine, some essence of herbs distilled into a pain-numbing concoction. “Here we are. I’ll help you up to ground level and to a real room – stairs are going to be hell with your depth perception all messed up.”

“Yeah, we’ve got you, Geddoe,” their third friend added, taking the medicine from the doctor and promising to see it administered. Both of them got on either side of Geddoe, hauling him up with his arms over their shoulders. He wasn’t weak, he’d slept off some of the exhaustion, but this would be his first time experiencing the dizzying, disorienting phenomenon of his one eye trying to compensate for its lost twin. If they could do nothing else for him, out of their care for him, they could at least keep him from stumbling over his own feet. At this point in his life, and in the war, Geddoe feared the damage to their army’s morale from seeing him weakened more than he feared having to live with only one eye. He gathered, as his two best friends bundled him out of the storeroom and out towards the nearest stairwell, that they understood this about him, and were willing to do whatever it took to keep him from losing face in front of the other fighters, wounded and hale alike. That was why he chose to rely on them, to let them bear him to a better room like a hero with his escort rather than a crippled wreck. The unspoken bond between the three rune bearers was carrying the Grasslands, after all, it could easily carry Geddoe’s spirit as well. As they emerged from the subterranean passageways into the light, which made Geddoe recoil and pause to regain his bearings, the younger man on his right gave a little laugh – and it was eerie hearing him, but not being able to see him. “I know,” he said, trying to brighten his wounded friend’s spirits, “we’ll get you a nice eyepatch. A black one, maybe leather or something. You’ll look all rugged and dangerous, like a real Fire Bringer bandit. How about that?”

Despite the pain in his head and the blurred vision, Geddoe found himself chuckling back. “Yeah, maybe.”

  


74\. – Dark

The last thing Geddoe wanted to do was stay in LeBuque, after the battle, after his loss, after putting his fist into the face of some upstart commoner who thought himself better than the mantor captain. He didn’t want to see the forsaken town after all of that, so it was his choice to leave and press on to Caleria by nightfall. The unit was obviously shaken by what happened, but none of them knew how to approach him, and aside from a few concerned whispers to each other behind his back, kept their wonderings about his state of health or mind to themselves. None dared question the decision to overnight in Caleria before heading back to Budehuc, for Geddoe was still their captain and they still held unwavering loyalty to him. Once Joker pointed out that Duke and the 14th Unit would probably use up all the beds in the LeBuque inn, the others blatantly agreed that it was better that they went to Caleria, even if they didn’t make it before sunset.

Darkness cloaked them all in shadow as they stumbled into the desert city, though the inn welcomed them with its bright beacon and loud chorus of drinking mercenaries enjoying their own respite. The members of the 12th were all too exhausted from the series of difficult battles and the subsequent journey through the treacherous mountain path to even think of joining them, but getting rooms and beds made them all hasten their steps a little. Only Geddoe remained behind, silently supervising as Ace made the booking for the rooms and then drifting outside alone. It wasn’t until the others got upstairs that they even noticed he had gone, and stood dumbly wondering if any of them should go after him.

With the shops closed and the market deserted, Caleria was dark and quiet, its walls somewhat ominous as black shapes against the blue-black sky. Geddoe trudged toward them, his mind empty and lost without the constant buzz of the internal voice of the Rune he had grown so accustomed to. Seventy-some years of bearing it and it was suddenly gone, leaving a dark void in his soul. He had once thought that, given the opportunity to remove it, he would be glad to be free of it, he would feel light and unburdened. Yet, now that it had come to pass, he found that he hated it. He hated the feeling of being completely, utterly alone, powerless, weak. He had fought his hardest, he and the Rune in tandem, his team all working together, and they had beaten back the onslaught. They had won over Luc, they had knocked the bishop sprawling. And yet…it had been for nothing. Geddoe had played right into his hands, exhausting himself and the Rune’s spells so that it would be weak when the two sorcerers plied their real assault on him. Now it was gone, and he felt the weight of his own mortality crashing down upon him.

There were many stairways in Caleria, some leading up to the rooftops or wall-catwalks, creating unusual pathways through the city. Geddoe climbed more than one, walking aimlessly as though completely blinded, his boots sure-footed on the open stairs that took him to upper-story courtyards and along the walls. He didn’t much care where he was going, he walked by rote, head down, dazed and turned inward upon himself. The darkness was not much deterrent to him, for he had lived so long with only one eye that his senses were all attuned to compensate. At last, he reached a dead end of sorts, a roof with no railing around the edge that butted up against buildings too high to climb and no more stairs. Geddoe paused, lifting his head enough to look around and see where he was, wandering vaguely to one edge of the rooftop. There was nothing below it but two stories of open air, nothing to land on except hard scrub and rocks. He stopped there, though, and only picked up his head in order to look at the stars shining brightly over the darkened city. He was only beginning to come out of the trauma, having blocked it out while they were fighting for their lives and trying to get everyone to safety – but the long hike down the mountainside to Caleria had allowed the shock to take full effect. He had withdrawn into himself, saying barely a word, thinking almost nothing in his blank state. Now that it was wearing off, he could think again, and nothing he thought was very good. The darkness was seeping into him, cutting off his air, clouding his judgment, erasing any hope he had of succeeding in his mission. Geddoe had lived for the last fifty years solely protecting the True Lightning Rune, and now that it had been seized…he had failed. He no longer had a mission, the protection of the Grasslands looked impossible now even if the other two True Runes were still in play. An even darker thought crossed his mind; _they’re going after the others_ , he realized. _Hugo and Chris are in danger_. Even knowing that, even aware of his personal vow to protect the bearers of the Runes like he did before, did not rouse him from his grim state and make him want to hurry back across the Grasslands. It was difficult to muster his courage and drive when everything was so cold and dark inside, when he had nothing to offer them but his sword and his memories, when death was stalking him with urgency. 

Geddoe did not know how long he had, days or weeks or months. Removing the Rune like that was the equivalent of ripping out one of his vital organs and seeing how long it took to die. He was not despondent enough to give up and wait there in Caleria for death to overtake him, but in that moment, looking up into the night, he didn’t have the will to press on, either. Unnaturally prolonging his life via the Rune made him cling to life all the more, even though there wasn’t much of it left unless he could regain True Lightning. Such a feat seemed impossible, and Geddoe didn’t even dare consider it that night. There was no reason to want anything, to plan anything, to think about anything except how odd, how uncomfortable, how dark it was without the Rune. He didn’t want to be this way, but he had little power left to change it. And there were five people who wanted nothing in this world except to follow him to the end of it. Sighing hard, Geddoe buried his face in his gloved hands and sank against the nearest wall. For once in his life, he was at a complete loss as to what to do.

  


90\. – Home

Budehuc Castle had all sorts of nooks and crannies for its residents to explore and exploit, from the statue room on the second floor to the sub-basement hidey-hole Eike preferred, to say nothing of upper lofts and twisting hallways above all the shops and the inn. Some of the outbuildings for the shops were new or rebuilt, but there was a shadow of the old on them, and the old, crumbling walls were much the same as they were fifty years prior. The castle pre-dated even the founding of Zexen, and some parts, like the deep dungeons and the outer walls with their ghosts of turrets and towers, were even older than the manor house, hearkening to some great fortress from ages past, maybe even from the days before Harmonia existed. Fifty years prior, when he and the other Fire Bringer negotiated the treaties which were now enforced by the new castle master, Geddoe had looked upon this quiet outpost of freedom as a beacon of hope, that maybe someday the sort of peace they had brokered for this tiny plot of land could spread throughout the continent. It was a shame that in the intervening years the agreements failed, the ones placed in charge had gone away and Zexen had come in to lay claim to what wasn’t theirs. It made Geddoe sigh to realize that even that little hope had vanished after he and Wyatt had turned their backs on Budehuc and gone their separate ways, guarding what they carried in their own fashions. But it was back, now, and so long as future generations kept to the spirit of freedom embodied in Thomas, it could last, this time.

The gruff mercenary walked the grounds at his own patient pace, an eye out for what had subtly changed in the years since the war. Not much, actually – some chipping paint here, some new windows there, the trees were taller and the quay more worn from the waters of the lake lapping at the pilings. But all the shops were there, open if not run by the same proprietors as held them during the war. Juan was still napping in the grass in front of the dojo. Cecile was still at the gate, spear in hand, greeting everyone who walked in. The familiarity warmed Geddoe’s heart; the place had become even more important to him in the war, because the people who lived there and those gathered by the conflict had turned it into more than just a headquarters. There was something special about Budehuc, some unknown but delightful sense that had drawn Geddoe back after several years. As he wandered the courtyards and rediscovered the halls and corridors, he was content to see that the peace, the quiet, the undisturbed daily life that he had fought hard to secure for the generations that would come after him, was finally here, firmly entrenched and guarded fiercely by the residents who had lingered on after the rest of the new Flame Champion’s forces scattered to their own lives. It was the fulfillment of a promise Geddoe made, and a mission he began himself, more than fifty years ago. At last, Budehuc was home to so many, open to all, welcoming anyone who chose to come with open arms, be it for a little respite or a permanent home.

Master Thomas had welcomed the mercenary captain upon his arrival, and asked no probing questions, only inviting him to stay for as long as he liked. The room on the beached ship out back where the 12th unit had stayed during the war was open, Geddoe could have it if he liked. He accepted it willingly, not even knowing himself just how long this visit would last. He didn’t like to make promises he couldn’t keep, and he could never be sure that the Defense Force wouldn’t call him back at a moment’s notice. But if Budehuc was so willing to take him in, he would not be so quick to run away from it. As he finished up his rounds standing on the little balcony over the main doors of the manor house, Geddoe realized that this was the first place he could ever really consider “home” since the destruction of his homeland in his youth, a century ago. Caleria was not home. Chisha had never really been home, he liked it but it was only where he crashed in between skirmishes of the war. For fifty years he had no home at all, only the road, whether it was alone or with the 12th unit. He never minded being a nomad, for it had been his nature ever since fleeing the Harmonian invasion and leaving his family, his village, and his country to Harmonia’s whims. There was no home for him, no place to lay his head, no place to keep belongings or return to every night, to find comfort and familiarity, to call his own. But now…now, there was Budehuc. Saved from the clutches of greedy Zexen, restored to the free, independent sanctuary he had desired in the first treaty, and under the tender, benevolent guidance of a young man every bit the idealist Geddoe had once been. He really could not ask for better, and as he surveyed the castle grounds from his second-floor vantage point, he understood how much he loved the place. Crumbling walls and all. He didn’t even know why, because he didn’t have any particular aesthetic sense that it appealed to. It just felt like home. There was a heart beating within its walls, deep beneath the soil, that seemed to call to him, to tell him that he was safe here, he could lay his head down and rest with no fear that Harmonia would come for him or the Rune would explode out of control. A gentle wind off the lake rose, tousling his hair and caressing his face. Geddoe turned into it, closing his eye and enjoying the feel of the breeze for a few moments. _What more could you ask for, old man?_ he questioned himself. _There is no conflict here. No blood on the ground, no fire in the sky. What we fought for…we finally have it._ He opened his eye and looked down, catching sight of Cecile clanking up to salute for Thomas down on the walk below. Whatever they were talking about, it looked innocent and carefree. A faint smile touched Geddoe’s lips. He may have thought he didn’t need and didn’t deserve a home, but he had found one at last. A place that would always welcome him. A room he could call his own. His heart twinged in his chest, but he bit back the deep emotions it stirred in him. _No promises, Budehuc. I don’t know how long I can stay. But…thank you._


End file.
